They must not sell our Forest home
Where we have all been free to roam
And marvel at the changing views
From spring's new life to autumn's hues,
Or wander by the pools and streams
Which sparkle in the sun's bright beams
And picnic in a Forest glade
While sheltered by a great oak's shade,
Then follow woodland paths to reach
The scented bluebells 'neath the beech,
Or watch the boar and sheep and deer
And nesting birds that all live here
They must not sell our Forest home
All creatures must be free to roam.
M.B. Cinderford.





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