Poems Extracted from - Paul Clacher

This dear old town of mine, Its fame was high, when men went by, In days of Auld Lang Syne. The drowsy Washpool murmurs, Neath sighing she-oaks’ shade. Beside the stream, the lovers dream – A man and blushing maid. Lionsville is growing old, I’m sorry, but its true, The gold is done, both lost and won – My song has ended too. Henry ... ................
................