Dedicated to Old and Modern Kinson

 Poems to read and to enjoy

Poems about Kinson

Unless stated all the poems featured are the copyright
of Rodney Haskell. Permission is given to use them.

KAISER`S "KAR" KINSON (Kingfisher - December 1907)

(Attributed to the late Captain Russell of Kinson House.)

There travels with Kings and with Kaisers,
A great many able advisers,
And they think that they know,
All the best roads to go,
But they find that some roads are surprisers.

I am told that it was somebody`s daughter,
Who advised them to go through the water.
`twas like Bay of Biscay.
They smelt doctor`s whisky`,
So they instantly yelled for a porter.

When in flood `tis no place for a bloater,
Much less for a nobleman`s motor`,
Jess Short and Bill Hicks,
Did the work of quite six,
And, with others, they managed to floater.

Dr. Lamb then appeared as adviser,
But they soon hurried after the Kaiser,
Most sternly he said,
As he sent them to bed,
`Naughty Boys, p`raps next time you`ll be wiser`.

A word or two more about Hicks,
When he found the fat man in a fix,
Without any pretence,
His weight was immense,
For he weighed like a thousand of bricks.

I am thankful to hear that Jess Short.
Did just what an Englishman ought,
Though the water was chilly,
He worked well with Billy,
Millhams is a dangerous port.

Here`s a reference to Lamb once again,
He prescribed such good stuff for their pain,
His excellent whisky,
Made those Germans so frisky,
They want to get stuck there again!


The little stream still flows
Where they said their fond farewells
To the green fields of England
To their loved ones and their pals

Though they`ll never come again
To those fields they all once knew
A little part of England
Still belongs to all of you

They died not in vain
Who ever they may be
All gave their precious life blood
So this nation could be free

THE KINSON LADS (revised 1990.)

The Kinson Lads were out at dawn
They wandered through the golden corn
Across the bridge those lads did file
A ragged-winding crocodile

Down from Cudnell they did savour
Longham`s mushrooms full of flavour
Found them in Hop-Gardens Mead
Finest crop they all agreed

Work soon done they wandered back
Along the winding leafy-track
Across the bridge did slowly file
A happy smiling crocodile

They worked the land and wages earned
summer eve`s they all returned
Across the bridge those lads did file
A happy laughing crocodile

They brought the girls from miles around
To their favourite hunting ground
Amongst old oaks they wandered through
Enjoyed the gentle evening dew

Golden notes from rising lark
Filled the lovers` leafy park
Across the bridge their hearts did file
A happy loving crocodile

The Great War took the lads away
They never returned another day
Across the bridge their spirits did file
A ragged ghostly crocodile

At first light one summer`s morn
Despoliers trampled down the corn
Destroyed the bridge lads loved to file
Ended the village crocodile

Today no lads are out at dawn
There`s no more lovely golden corn
The bridge has gone where they did file
There`s no more ragged crocodile


There`s a fox in old Spindlewood
Who`s always up to no good
He rattles the bins
And for all of his sins
He`s doing what a crafty fox should
Then he trots home to his bed

In a nice cumfy mound
He lives underground
And there he will doze all day
When nightime arrives
On darkness he thrives
This is his time to play

With Millhams his venue
And bunnies his menu
At times he`s quite overfed
With a lick of his licks
He gobbles `em down
Then he trots home to his bed

It doesn`t seem fair
As he lies in his lair
With an everso filled up tum
Perhaps in a new world
New plans will unfurl
And bunnies will go yum! yum!


A solitary corn marigold
Forgot one important factor
One should never ever flower
In the path of a Council tractor
Better luck next year!


Golden and yellow medallions
Are scattered beneath the trees
When nature releases the summer
With a gust or a hearty breeze

The summer now is saying
It`s time for her to flee
She does it in a carefree way
Beneath every living tree


(A plea to protect wildlife.)

With golden beaks
They weaved their wings
With sticks and straw
And moss and things

And when the work
Was finally done
They sat on high
Amidst the sun!

Proud hens they sat
Upon their rings
Whilst high above
Their mates did sing

They sang aloud
For all to hear
And so they should
This time of year!

Proud hens they warmed
Their speckled shells
They lived in peace
In leafy dells

Each passing hour
They quietly waited
But sadly soon
Their rings were fated!

The boys they came
With eagles` eyes
And cast sad clouds
Across the skies

They left the moors
With speckled shells
That`s why the birds
They mourned in scores!

Those shells were stored
In stuffy rooms
Will never hatch
With springtime`s blooms

Will never fly
Across the sky
Lifeless gems in stuffy drawers
As silent as the silent mmors

In future days
The People said
Where are the birds?
Are they all dead?

Why no birds
To weave the rings
With sticks and straw
And moss and things?


Running round The Dolphin*
The Bunny and Kinson Green
A crocodile goes weaving
A funny peculiar scene!

Running round The Pound
The Well and Pelhams Green
A crocodile goes weaving
Bright-eyed and keen!

Running round The Tulip
Old Pelhams and Brookside
A crocodile goes weaving
With jaws open wide!

Running round The Enoch`s
Old cottages and Manor Farm
A crocodile goes weaving
There`s no cause for alarm!

Running round Grey Cottages
Lamb`s tree and Kinson Church
A crocodile goes weaving
Complete`s its local research!

This crocodile is harmless
It belongs not to a zoo
It is Kinson Primary children
writing an historical review!

Long may The Crododile
Continue to show its face
Denoting that Old Kinson
Lives on in a modern day place.

* The Dolphin Inn is now known as Gulliver`s Tavern.


The last rose of summer has fallen
Her petals are in disarray
The wind has no respect for love
As it blows the summer away


A person`s time should be well spent
For time to us is only lent
And everyone should have a goal
To see us through
To make us whole
And as we journey to the end
Time to us should be a friend


( Mr. C. N. Jolliffe 1894-1989)

Jim Rook, Jim Rook
Is fast asleep
Amongst old friends
Near Cudnell Brook

Jim Rook, Jim Rook
He has no need
Of worldly things
In Andrew`s Mead

Jim Rook, Jim Rook
Will tell no more
His village tales
Of the rich and the poor

Jim Rook, Jim Rook
Here lies he
He made his mark
Now he is history!


Into a dark secluded nook
Golden sunbeams trickled through
Come.. wake up sleepy head
Mother Nature`s calling you!
Bold blackbird`s silver chorus
Joined by a rival thrush
Get up.... come see
Meadows green and lush
Enjoy these tranquil hours
Before the daily rush


( A letter to Bournemouth Council.)

Good Day Mr. Street
Forgive my tone today,
Whilst rebuilding Pelham`s Wall
Workmen took our stone away

Your loyal Council workmen
Were advised what to do,
After their patchwork job
The stone wasn`t returned to view
Our stone was centuries old
Perhaps it looked forlorn?
It stood in that position
Before your Council was born

Old Kinson would be grateful
If you would investigate,
Please put our stone back
We hope it`s not too late?

Please ask Mr. Lomas
To look and see?
What happened to our stone?
Where ever can it be?


Dear Mr. Haskell,
You shame us to the core,
Had we known its value,
The Stone would be in store.

As things are at present,
We seem to have made a slip -
The stone in all its glory
Is at the bottom of the tip.

So it would appear
There is only one thing to do
And that is to say,
I`m truly sorry
To the Millhams folk and you!


(Smugglers in Kinson Village)

Silhouettes upon the hill,
Silhouettes just standing still,
Silhouettes on darkened sky,
Those silhouettes go riding by,
Clipping-clopping never stopping,
`till they reach that lonely beach.

Silhouettes along the shore,
Those silhouettes with tubs galore,
Those silhouettes by lantern-light,
Those silhouettes at work tonight.

Clipping-clopping from the shore,
Clipping-clopping by the moor,
Clipping-clopping through the woods,
Clipping-clopping with "the goods".

Clipping-clopping sometimes stopping,
Clipping-clopping kegs a-dropping,
Clipping clopping through the glade,
Clipping-clopping last "drop`s" made.

Those silhouettes come trotting back,
Clipping-clopping cloaked in black,
Clipping-clopping through the night,
Clipping-clopping out of sight.

The blues and reds will search in vain,
In lofty tower or sunken drain,
Will chase thin air,
Will chase like hound,
Those silhouettes have gone to ground.

Try catching moonbeams,
Or shadows in the sky,
You will grasp at nothing
When those silhouettes trot by,
Clipping-clopping never stopping,
Miles away at the break of day.

(Perhaps written in 1765 by George Lockyer,
Parish Clerk at Kinson church?)

A little tea, one leaf I did not steal
For guiltless bloodshed, I to God appeal
Put tea in one scale, human blood in t`other
And think what `tis to slay a harmless brother


(By Mr. Randolph Paul )

Mr. Randolph Paul has researched a rather sad story about
a Newfoundland Indian girl who was captured and was brought
to England to be a servant to Mr. Stone at Howe Lodge in
the late 1790`s.

It is not surprising that she died in Kinson soon afterwards
and was buried in Kinson churchyard. No one knows quite where.

This poem is an extract from his book of poems about Oubee.
Her haunting memory lives on.

Oubee is going home
Where are you going oubee?

Oubee is going home
Oubee is going home to swim
to swim in black duck river
the sun is watching for oubee
Oubee is going home to swim

Where are you going oubee?
Oubee is going home

Oubee is going home to catch fish
to catch salmon in thunder brook
the sun is watching for oubee
Ooubee is going home to catch fish

Oubee is going home
Oubee is going home
going home to sing a long song
to sing of red indian waters
sweet waters of life
the sun is watching for Oubee
Oubee is going home to sing a long song


Brown rats are bright not duff
For they`d certainly `ad enough
To the Kingfisher they said:
We`ll help move your bed
Let`s all go to Millhams instead
These creatures then left in hoards
On trolleys and trikes
And kid`s motorbikes
And some whizzed off on sail-boards

If we cleaned up this mess
We could all start again anew
In a spirit of togetherness
Mother Nature would say:
Thank You!


I can see each curtain flicker
As trouble passes by
I can see their jaded looks
As they cast a scornful eye

Shortly after dawn
Out will come the troops
Busy yacking over fences
They stand about in groups

The trouble`s quickly righted
These troups have aching jaws
Everyone`s going to be knighted
They scurry back indoors

Let others do the work
Is the nimbys` way
Let it all hang out
Whilst others beaver away

Moaning`s done the trick
It really wasn`t hard
Others have the problem now
It`s not in our backyard!


To sit beside a stream in spring
When life renews and feathers sing;
When nature glistens on parade
And rainbows dance around a glade;
We in lightness now recall
Our stream beside a waterfall

If you should not return in May
To watch and ponder time away;
Nor sit in June or sweet July
Nor watch the graceful summer fly;
Nor sit in August or September
We are aware - we will remember

We shall gather when we may
To watch and ponder time away;
To dream of oaks and cooling shade
Of vibrant stream and greeny glade:
You are there as we recall
Our stream beside a waterfall


(Written for the brownies of Kinson)

So much to see in glades we pass
Where orchids flower deep in grass

So much to see where streams rush on
As ripples sparkle then are gone

So much to heed by heath and wood
Where deer run free and time is good

So much to view on time`s fair face
Where light and darkness merge in space

So much to dwell if only we
Could pause awhile to watch and see

No time to fret while others run
As we with nature merge as one

So much to see till day is done
Of beauty formed since time begun


This is the place few people know
Where birds do sing and orchids grow
Where time it hangs beneath each bough
As centuries come and go as now


(Problems with rubbish long ago.)

If you stir at midnight, and hear a dumper`s feet,
Don`t stare out your misted windows, nor gaze in the street,
Best ask no questions and turn a sleepy eye,
Back to bed, nosey people, as the dumpers speed by.

Five and twenty vehicles,
Whizzing through the dark-
`Beds for Millhams Mead,
Rugs for Pelhams Park,`
Junk for Two Barrow, awful rubbish piled up high,
Go back to bed, nosey people, as the dumpers speed by!

As you pass Great Oaks you may even find,
Wheel-barrows, old and rusty, an full of broken jars,
Don`t you shout nor tell your friends, nor with them
Let kids play,
Take a chance grab `em then - or they`ll be gone next day!

If you see a stolen `lectric meter open wide;
Give it a shake - be sure to look inside;
If Mum needs a 16 coat -take a little tour;
Do try Poole Lane Sallows - Mum won`t need one anymore.

If you meet some Council folk, dressed in red or green,
Think before you speak, and mind what is said,
If they shout `Hello sailor`, and wink at you and grin,
Don`t tell `em what you`re after, nor what`s in your wheelie bin!

Bangs and heavy boots pass your house - such awful
Sounds after dark-
Don`t go running out even if your dog should bark,
Snowy`s here, look at him, he`s not dumb just fly,
He`s no intention of following any dunpers going by!

Those that don`t ask questions will be sure to find -
All sorts of goodies that those dumpers left behind!


On the 19th July 2013, at Kinson Primary School, a sundial was
unveiled to honour the memories of the late Mr Bill Magowan and
the late Mr Bob Keniston, who had given the school many years
of loyal and devoted service, as senior governors at Kinson.

Family members were present, also current and former Staff,
governors and invited guests. Warm tributes were paid to Bill
and Bob and afternoon tea was served in the Main Hall.

We thank you Bill and Bob
For the work that you have done
For being here for the children
And all the hearts that you have won.

We thank you and with pride
We meet together to reflect
For all you did for Kinson
And to honour you with respect.

“Always here for the children”
We`ll keep this promise too
Our children are so very special
And always, our memories of you.


Remembering Dexter (2016)

His walks were lovely, dark, and deep,
with miles to go before his sleep.
A loyal friend to have and keep.

Community Web Kit provided free by BT