Dinosong

When dinos drummed the earth
And dactyls skimmed the sky
Their stone eggs, they gave birth to bones for you and I
To dream about the past
To dream about the past
A steam-soaked landscape, murky marshes, roaring waterfalls
Ancient forests, crashing trees and distant creature calls
Dream about the past
Dream about the past
To dream

I from distant safety see
I fly, oh I fly
With the landscape under me.

O if I lived in prehistoric times, well I would die
Masticated, torn to shreds in the twinkling of an eye
I wouldn't last a day
I wouldn't last a day
The scent of human blood would tantalise the hungry crew
And when they' polished me off, well they'd surely start on you
You wouldn't last a day
You wouldn't last a day
No way, no way.

We should thank our lucky stars
To be alive in this century of ours

2009
A relatively safe time
No dinosaurs.

Song circle this morning, possibly outside drinking lemonade left over from yesterday when the family came round. We sat in the sun on foldy wooden chairs and some chairs from the kitchen and ate salad and cakes (I ate four).
Sarah brought stickers that said '50' to go on the wheelie bin in case anyone pinches it again. Thank you Sarah!
Andy brought round a green Gnasher t-shirt, perfect for gardening in and scaring away the black and white cat that sneaks in and sprays on my guitar cases when I'm not looking. And the orange cat that comes frog-hunting at the sad little pond a foot square at the back of the garden, still big enough for frogs, and once a newt (how'd dat get there?)
If only it would work on the pesky little grey moths that flutter past in my peripheral vision, heading for my dear green duffel coat that I have had for a million years. If you clap your hands beside them, they become stunned and flutter to the floor.
Cruel perhaps, but I do make tasty little pies out of them and nosh them in the evenings with a pint of spider-leg beer.