A migrant from elsewhere and a stranger to renown
And an ageing newcomer in the old coastal town
One wearied a bit by the passing of time
And addicted to the penning of doggerel rhyme
We are what we think we are the wise do say
And no two see all things in the very same way
What is beautiful to you may not be so to me
We all look on life one might say differently
You show a developer a beautiful tree
and a stumbling block to progress he only does see
Whilst to a Nature lover that tree is a precious thing
For birds to build their nests on and whistle and sing
A migrant from elsewhere and here mine's not a known face
But I do feel at home in this beautiful place.
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