HEY AND WHY

Hey hey hey , come hither and hear
about a market town, so pretty and clear
a tranquil haven, where poets pose
its anything goes for a man of prose

The woodcarvers son, serves you a beer
raise your glass for its time to cheer
a Welsh filly or an English rose
fulfill your dreams ,dismiss your woes

The place to frequent, for a pint of relief
a house on the corner, they call The Wheatsheaf
a famous line from a certain lord
this is what he once guffawed

"Wine , women , mirth and laughter
its here right now and everyday after
but thats not all ,there is so much more
to taste and sample , and simply adore

The black mountains stand, so proud and sure
soldiers on guard, now and evermore
their treasure laid out down in the Wye Valley
the quaintest version of Tin pan alley

Yiu should get to know every street
like old Samuel Evans on his postmans beat
the famous Black Lion, with its scrumtious fayre
the thursday market and Memorial Square

The woodcarvers daughter, they call her jas
the sparkle , the glitter, the razzmatazz
she lives in Powys and Herefordshire
a testament to her mother,one i hold dear

Alas there is a station no more
they last closed the door in 64
but like the waters that flow along Dilais Brook
you will get there somehow , by hook or by crook

I`ve saved the last for the best of all
the world reknowned `Hay Literary Festival`
they come from near and from afar
for ten days of frolics, strange and bizarre

The town clock is the test of time
a symbol for students of verse and rhyme
so if it appeals its called `Hay-on-Wye`
why why why , dont you give it a try