Yokel's Photo

Yokel's Songs

Pub and Grub

Yokel's History


Wiltshire Poems

Here are two poems by the much acclaimed Wiltshire Poet Gwen Ellis.
Gwen Ellis has appeared on television and radio, and has written many poetry books with a Wiltshire theme.

These poems are from her book 'Moonshine'.
It was first published in 1976.


We be Wiltshire Moonrakers, feeling right sad,
'cause our famous old *Crammer's gone dry,
And that were the pond as gave us our name
In they far away days, now gone by.

Now you all knows the story, least most on 'ee do,
How they Wiltshire chaps met there one night
For some caskies of spirits the Smugglers would bring
When the moon were at full, shining bright.

Well 'twerent long 'fore they heard **Zizeman coming,
So they sank 'em in Crammer, right quick,
And so's as they'd stay at the bottom,
They tied on some blooming girt bricks.

"Now, What be you up to?" said Zizeman,
And they, being crafty, said "Well,
We be trying to rake out this dapper girt cheese,
But whatevr 'ee do, don't ee tell".

"you'm a right lot of Ninnies," said Zizeman,
"That's the 'flection of moon, not a cheese,
You'm a stupid girt bunch of Moonrakers," he laughed,
Then he galloped away on his steed.

Now he'd done just as all they blokes wanted,
He'd left 'em alone wi' their loot,
So wi' no more ado, they knew just what to do
Afore anyone else were afoot.

Now, he who laughs last, laughs the longest,
And we've never stopped laughing, not we,
And although they've a-called us "Moonrakers" since then,
WE be proud on it, Aye that we be.

So let's hope our famous old Crammer
will be filled up wi' water right soon,
Then we'll laugh and we'll sing,
And the church bells'll ring,
As soon as we gets a full moon.

* The Crammer is a large pond in Devizes.
It temporarily dried up during the hot summer of 1976.
** A Zizeman is a Exciseman or Customs Official.


I went down shop for some butter,
Now I only wanted a half,
But if I'd been after the Crown Jewels,
More questions they couldn't have asked.

"What kind would you like?" the maid said wi' a smile,
"We've got Danish, New Zealand or Dutch,"
I'll just have a half of Moonraker me dear,
If that won't be asking too much."

Well, I makes off for home, but I hadn't gone far,
When I see'd a girt crowd all a flutter,
Then I heard a bloke shout "there's really no doubt,
This margarine tastes like best butter."

"Now look here young feller," I shouted,
"I know you be out for a sell,
But you'm in the Moonraker County right now,
And you won't get away wi' that tale".

"But afore you da go, I've got summat here
I'd very much like 'ee to try,
And if you da say this da taste same as marge,
Them you'm telling a blooming girt lie."

" 'cause we da use marge for to cook wi',
But butter's for putting on bread,
And though we Moonrakers be plain simple folk,
We haven't gone soft in the head."