Category Archives: Childhood

Will you be a drummer boy?

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Will you be a drummer boy
When you’re big and handsome,
Will you play the fife and drum
As you march along?

Will you wear a soldier’s coat
When you’re big and handsome,
Scarlet jacket, buttons gold,
As you march along?

Will you whistle soldiers’ songs
When you’re big and handsome,
Will you fashion manhood’s dreams
As you march along?

May you tread the ways of peace
When you’re big and handsome,
Nothing harm and no one wrong
As you march along.

Far from you the threat of war
When you’re big and handsome,
A drummer boy and nothing more
As you march along.

June 1980

The Mighty Hunter

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The path through the beech trees is frozen and white
And the forest lies covered in snow,
And I’m a great hunter with shotgun held tight
Which I carry wherever I go.

I’m not very frightened though the woods are so dark
And bears hide behind every tree,
The things I don’t like are the tracks in the snow
Which insist upon following me.

They are too big for squirrels and too small for lions
Or tigers, or wolf cubs or bear;
Though their shape is familiar and I’d know them again,
When I turn there is no creature there.

It’s a little alarming, even scaring I’d say,
For a clever young hunter like me
To know while I’m hunting alone in the woods
That some other beast’s hunting me.

I’ve spoken to Mummy, she says “It’s all right,
Don’t be frightened, don’t worry, there, there!”
But she doesn’t go hunting, doesn’t know what it’s like
To be followed by something out there.

And the strange thing I’ve noticed when hunting is done
And I trudge home again through the snow,
The tracks follow me homewards right up to my door,
Where they go after that I don’t know.

10 April 1975

Deep in the Forest

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Deep in the forest there’s a dragon in the bracken,
Deep in the forest there’s an owl in a tree,
Deep in the forest there’s a witch in a cavern,
Deep in the forest there’s also little me.

I am frightened of the dragon which lives in the bracken,
I am frightened of the owl which sits in the tree,
I am frightened of the witch who lives in the cavern
But none of them is frightened of poor little me.

Deep in the hollow there’s a camp of Red Indians,
Dancing around their campfire as wild as wild can be;
I wish that I had feathers and could live inside a wigwam,
But what would all the Indian braves think of little me?

Deep in the bushes at the bottom of the garden,
There’s a tiger living in his den behind the apple tree,
And when I go to fetch my ball or dig for hidden treasure,
I feel that through the branches the tiger’s watching me.

Down by the river there’s a scarecrow in a meadow
Who chases all the birds away – he also frightens me,
I wonder why he stands so still on one leg in the moonlight,
When everyone is safe at home in bed like sleepy me.

I am frightened of the scarecrow who stands in the meadow,
I am frightened of the tiger behind the apple tree,
I am frightened of the Indian braves dancing round their campfire,
But none of them is frightened of poor little me!