Looking north from Maralal to the valley of South Horr,
There's a bloody great sand lugger filled with dung and elephant spore,
If you walk along the lugger when the evening shadows creep,
You'll find a poor old bugger sound asleep,
His left hand holds a demi-jar, his right a broken glass,
There's a fishing rod made up behind his ear,
And he murmurs in his slumbers, you can hear him if you're near,
Bang 'em Hugill bang em boy and bring the blighters here.
Written by my father in 1970 after safari to Lake Rudolph in Kenya
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
And my sun went out far too soon.
I tried to be strong like the trees so high,
I saw you in every floating butterfly
Soon, I felt your spirit free in the breeze
Gentle, calm and quietly at peace
I felt your love keeping me safe and warm
My guardian angel to a new life born.
My deepest love is with you always
Your loving daughter.
This was written by my sister to commemorate the 1st anniversary of our mother's passing.