We lived over the shop in the middle of town,
No yard, no garden to play in,
So Sunday morning would see us decamp,
Moel Famau? The Leet? Rhydymwyn?

But the spot we loved best was Talacre Beach,
Parents in deckchairs relaxing,
We kids in the water, too shallow to drown,
Sand castles, slides, all exciting.

One fly in the ointment was the time in the car,
For the queues at Queensferry stretched miles.
No traffic lights then, just one AA man
Waving arms as they charged from all sides.

It took us three hours one night to come home,
Pa said, "I've taken as much as I can".
So he went off next day, in a secretive way,
And came home with a small caravan.

We fitted it out with bedding and crocks,
Then the great day came for the flight.
We had no idea what Pa had in mind
But fingers were crossed very tight.

We turned right at Queensferry, through Shotton, then Flint,
The tension was certainly rising,
We cheered and we sang as Talacre Sands
Loomed up on the distant horizon.

We did not stop there but a bit further on
To Gronant, right in the sandhills.
Lots of pushing and shoving to set it just right
On our own special plot. Hopes fulfilled.

So a pattern was set, off at Saturday noon,
Dropped back at our schools on the Monday,
We soon made some friends so idyllic weekends
We expected to last until Doomsday.

But war was declared and we had to move
For the shore to be used for gun practice,
So we went to a field by the old Loggerheads,
It was pretty but not nearly so nice.

First petrol was rationed, then none at all,
So we didn't see much of our friend,
But when it was over we kids had grown up
And had our own interests to tend.

And so it was sold, amid floods of tears,
Still those golden days stay in my heart,
The feel of my toes sinking into hot sand,
Wild freedom was the very best part.

---

Dragon Dreams

I once was Denbigh's proud Dragon,
But something's gone terribly wrong,
I will have to go on the wagon,
So I'm singing a very sad song.

My scales are all rough and ragged,
When they should be shiny and bright,
Can't get enough breath to breathe fire,
Or do enough sleeping at night.

My nerves are all jingly-jangly,
I've bitten my claws to the quick,
My wings are just a sad tangle,
And my roar is more of a squeak.

But oh! What a wonderful party
We had in the Brookhouse Mill,
We sang and we danced until daybreak,
Til John said 'Enough! Here's your bill.'

But boy oh boy it was worth it,
'Cos I'm so lonely just me on that flag,
But I'd better get back pretty quickly
Before you all notice...it's BLANK!