I'm planning on retiring when I'm fifty,
And there's a place in North Wales we'd like to be.
It's a little place we tarried
Not long after we were married,And that place is Kinmel Bay beside the sea.

Now I know it's sixteen years since our last visit,
Has it changed, or does it seem that time's stood still?
The beach was pebble, mostly,
And at night deserted - ghostly,
Because the nightspots were in Abergele or in Rhyl.

We would turn off the coast road before the hump-bridge
At 'The Cookery Nook' - the little corner shop,
Onto a rough road of rock and sand,
We'd take our lives into our hands,
Driving slowly so our tyres wouldn't pop.

We'd pull up outside the bungalow where we were staying,
'ISIPINGO' was its name (what does that mean?)
Mrs. Reid would bring the key (she owned the bungalow, you see)
And we'd unpack straight away (well, we were keen).

Because we used 'ISIPINGO' as our base-camp,
From where we'd set off to Conway or Llandudno,
We could go to Colwyn Bay
Or to Swallow Falls for the day.
The Mountain Zoo was a place we often would go.

You see we valued the freedom, the peace and open spaces,
Because in Manchester we feel trapped, my wife and me,
We've lived here since being born
But my fiftieth'll bring a new dawn,
We'll sell up, move out and hopefully live by the sea.

But our worry is that we're seeing it through rose-tinted memories,
Is it the same living there as being on holiday?
We really hope it is,
Because our dreams are made of this
And it's only three more years 'til my fiftieth birthday.

Now I know that we could drive over in just one hour,
Because it's only down the motorway and a little bit more,
But if we decided to do that now
Would we be sorry to learn how
That Kinmel Bay isn't like we knew before?

So we'll wait until I'm fifty and retired,
Then we will stay a couple of days in Kinmel Bay,
We'll go to our old places
And hopefully there'll be traces
Of the happy times we had there on holiday.

So until then there's three more years left for dreaming,
And I'm sure our dreams are going to come true,
Because when we're by the sea
We're quite happy, my wife and me,
To retire to Kinmel Bay, well, that would do.

---

I wonder

I wonder at my wife's timeless beauty.
Her hair a waterfall of dreams, cascading golden silk
Falling softly around features of ageless elegance,
Her complexion a pool of pure buttermilk.

I wonder adoringly at her diamond-bright eyes,
Rare jewels, none more precious.
Her pearl-drop nose, exquisite rubies for lips,
Of more value than Solomon's treasures.

I wonder at the youthful innocence
Which leaves her unknowing, unaware
Of the warmth left behind when she leaves the room,
January embers; my heart burns there.

Her fine, tapered neck, an ivory plinth
To support the priceless object above,
No artisan could craft such a prize out of stone
It could only be carved out of love.

I wonder at her graceful, enduring form.
Hypnotic, yet soothing; smooth and sleek,
Her exquisite movements like liquid gold
Leaves the hearts that she touches weak.

I wonder if anything could compare to her
On earth, or wherever life may be.
But what I wonder most of all, is
Why she chose to marry me.

---

Money
One pound, two pounds, three pounds four,
I like money and I want lots more.
Five pounds, six pounds, seven pounds eight,
I love money I think it's great!

I love money in any form,
Having lots of money should be the norm.
I like coins and I also love notes,
I've pocketfuls of cash in all my coats.

I've buried some in the garden under a tree,
Just one or two thousand or maybe three.
I've put some in the ceiling and in the wall,
And lots beneath the floorboards in the hall.

I like to count my money late at night,
Piles of cash is a beautiful sight.
I keep some in a bag and lots in a box,
Some in my shirts and more in my socks.

There's five thousand in the fridge, ten more with the pans,
Half a million in the larder stuffed into cans.
I've hid some in the attic where it's now gathering dust,
If it's dirty or clean well I'm really not fussed.

I won't give my money away I'll keep it to myself,
Money is for counting, and hoarding on the shelf.
But when I get older and my counting days end,
I may spend a bit of it and go and buy a friend.