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  I Dreamed I Stood at Calvary                              What a Wonderful World  
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  CP (6) The Christmas Presence  
  There is poetry in each one of us
Maybe not the written word
But in the rhythm that flows through our being
In a song that's not always heard
Not all of us are 'published' poets
But we have that rhythm in our soul
If we would but shed our fears
We could easily reach that goal.

Poetry is in its self a therapy
That frees restraints of the mind
It is boundless in its vastness
A bounty to mankind
Poetry is an inner echo
Of what your psyche would love to do
So do not doubt your 'poet's heart'
Let your visions come shining through.

spacer A Pro fund - ditty spacer

As each day passes we are counseled by those purporting to be a little wiser than ourselves in the art of profundity They always appear to have a small phrase on the tip of their tongue that in their mind fits the occasion. Here are a few of those phrases strung together...

  When you are unsure about an action, then refrain and when in doubt about a decision, then abstain. When two quarrel, then both are in the wrong, when adversity attacks, defend through song. Pleasure is seldom found where it is sought, happiness is a commodity that can't be bought. Give every man your ear but not your voice, remember, freedom is a right and not a choice.

If you want your dream to come true, don't oversleep, don't run before you can walk or even creep. Good breeding is the blossom of good sense, let the fruits of honest labour be your defense. Be patient friend, the world is broad and wide, for when your cover's blown, where can you hide?

  Here is a spoonful of profundity that you might be able to stir into a conversation on occasion

If you are itching to do something well, you'll soon come up to scratch.

Making a dream come true is easy, keeping up the installments isn't.

It is easier to pass the buck than carry the can.

Advice is the only free thing that you can give away that nobody wants.

When the soles of your shoes are worn out you'll soon be back on your feet again.

Weddings are arranged, but funerals must be undertaken.

The best thing to be buried in..... is a book!

The secret to success is sincerity.... fake that and you have it made.

If you do not want to appear two sandwiches short of a picnic.. use your loaf.

Never let a woman's mind wander, it is to little to be out on its own.


Tomorrow is a day that by definition, will never dawn
Whilst yesterday was a day when tomorrow was its morn
Tomorrow holds our future and yesterday our past,
Why not settle for today and make the present last.

Yesterday is history and has been so since time began
Tomorrow is an abstract time in the mind of every man.
Yesterday holds memories of the tomorrows we endured
But today is the day when things get done, of that be re-assured.

Yesterday is time you've spent learning how to live
Tomorrow is so indeterminate, what else have you to give?
Yesterday you gave it all to that dependent outstretched hand,
Today is what you should settle for, and then life would be grand

Go ack to Poem Menu

An Ape           

Fulfilling a Desire (Audio)

Your Guide to the USA
  Now we all know that the USA is a big country, however only about 10% of its inhabitants have passports. Why? Because they don't need them. They can experience the climates of the world right there in their backyard. Culture, now that is where the 10% comes in, culture and history are not yet mature enough in the States so for some there is a need to travel. For those who remain at home, click here and find out where your neighbour lives.
  Sweet Summer Rose  

Audio:   Count my Blessings

Count My Blessings


Her First Encounter 

The scene, please, you imagine,

Make it as simple as can be.

The place, where you prefer it,

The players, he and she.

Position, she was reclining,

Staring at the ceiling up above.

Music, it was piped

The theme was harmony and love.

She whispered, "Will it hurt much?"

"Of course it won't" said he

"It's a very simple process,

Relax, rely on me."

She said, "I'm rather frightened,

I've never done this sort of thing before,

I've been assured there's nothing like it,

When it's over, will I be sore?"

He started to convince her

That it wouldn't hurt a bit,

She finally consented

And then wholly did submit.

Three, four minutes passed by

And neither spoke a word

It was she that broke the silence,

Her voice was rather blurred.

"It is getting rather painful"

The tears were in her eyes.

"It is hurting quite a bit now,

It must be quite a size."

"Now calm yourself my dear" he said

His face betrayed a grin.

"Relax and let it open,

And then I can get right in."

He adjusted his position

And approached her from behind,

Probing, easing gently,

The right spot for to find.

His grip upon her tightened,

He blocked the ceiling from her view,

All that she could think of was

His eyes are azure blue.

"It's coming now" he said to her

"I know" she thought with bliss

"It is quite a funny feeling

When you're lying back like this."

A spasmodic jerk then shook her

She gave a sudden shout

The experience was over,

Thank the Lord it's out.

Having obliged the sweet young lady

She was reminded of his fee

As would any Dentist

Unless your Dentist's free.




The Pharaoh's Farewell-

Death comes to him on silent wings

Who dare to disturb the sleep of Kings.

So read the curse in the ancient rite

A threat that's delivered by a single bite.

Let the desert sands embrace the past

Raise not these tombs, for the die is cast.

Those Pharaohs in those far off days

Controlled all destiny, in secret ways.

Devotees of new life, in death

They issued this warning with their dying breath,

"Death comes to him on silent wings

Who dares to disturb the sleep of Kings."





The Killing Floor

Just around midnight Shadows creepin' round my door Demon dealers, junkies and squealers Down on the killing floor Some brother on the corner Talk in' about some low down dirty shame And all anybody wants Is their fifteen minutes of fame

But I want more Yeah, it is just outside my door I want more, but I am tied Tied to the killing floor

A man works so hard But gets treated just like a whore Then a jerk off in a high rise Doesn't need him any more His whole world comes crashing down For a better Wall Street bottom line He drowns his dreams in a paper cup And leaves the world behind

But he should've had more Yeah it was just outside his door He needed more, but he was tied Down on the killing floor

I don't care who you know What you think or what you say 'Cause a man who can change his heart Can change the whole world some day So if you're drowning in the basement In the stinging saline of your tears Get free from the killing floor Take a stand and face your fears

'Cause you can have more Yeah, it is just outside your door If you know the score Get free, free from the killing floor


Neill Burt.


Tae a Fert

Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie

Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie

Just as ye sit doon among yer kin

There sterts to stir an enormous wind.

The neeps and tatties and mushy peas

Stert workin like a gentle breeze

But soon the puddin wi the sauncie face

Will have ye blawin’ all ower the place.

Nae matter whit the hell ye dae

A’bodys gonnae have tae pay

Even if ye try to stifle,

It’s like a bullet oot a rifle.

Hawd yer bum tight tae the chair

Tae try and stop the leakin air

Shift yersel frae cheek tae cheek

Prae tae God it doesnae reek

But aw yer efforts go assunder

Oot it comes like a clap a thunder

Ricochets aroon the room

Michty me, a sonic boom!

God almighty it fairly reeks;

Hope I huvnae shit ma breeks

Tae the bog I better scurry

Aw whit the hell, its no ma worry.

A’body roon aboot me chowkin,

Wan or two are nearly bowkin

I’ll feel better for a while

Cannae help but raise a smile.

Wis him! I shout with accusin glower,

Ye dirty bugger they shout and stare

I dinnae feel welcome any mair.

Where ere ye go let yer wind gan free

Sounds like just the job fur me

Whit a fuss at Rabbie's perty

Ower the sake o won wee ferty.

Apologies tae Rabbie


Death of an Innocent.

I once wrote a poem, yes I wrote it myself,
On some manuscript paper that I found on a shelf.
I then posted that poem, yes I did so with pride,
I said what I thought for I had nothing to hide.
Someone deleted my poem after I'd laid it aside,
A murderous act, for my little poem died.
Its life on the forum was ever so brief
And those that had read it were consumed with grief.
To think such a creation should be treated this way,
Someone for this sin surely should pay.
Alas retribution is not mine to claim
For the forum in question is not in my name
Such are the acts that are perpetrated today
One's not allowed freedom to have one's own say



Gone Fishing.

I looked out of the window

And witnessed an early dawn

Made a decision, to go fishing

And forego cutting the lawn.

My fishing gear was quickly packed

So I set off down the lane,

Huge clouds did soon assemble

A prelude to heavy rain.

I made it to the river bank

Set up my rod and line

Baited my hook and made a cast

Whilst hoping the sun would shine.

Instead I heard the thunder

And then saw the lightning flash,

The wind tore trees up by their root

And they then to earth did crash.

I lay prostrate upon the ground

Almost at one with the sodden grass

Mumbling long forgotten prayers

Praying for that hurricane to pass.

And pass it did....eventually

Wind abating from roar, to whine,

Trudging home I found my fishing rod

With a fat trout upon the line.


My Baltic Adventure

I felt it was time to leave these shores
And explore the lands to the North
So I booked myself a Baltic cruise
And I got my money's worth.
I set sail from the Southampton port
The skies were an azure blue
Bearing left through the English channel
Then heading North on the compass true.

Kristiansand was my first port of call
I was greeted by a local moose
Albeit stuffed, and set on wheels
Aye, chained so it would not get loose.
The scenery, the architecture,
The history turned ones head
It was a place I was loathe to leave
But my itinerary pointed North instead.

Aye North to Copenhagen
I saw the Mermaid on the rock
Further on to the port of Helsinki
And another fabulous place to dock.
Still further North to St Petersburg
A magnificent Russian port
Catherine Palace in all its splendour
Ensured you weren't sold short.

One cannot relate the Baltic tale
By omitting ports of call
So full astern me hearties
And I'll try and include them all.
Leaving Copenhagen and the Mermaid on the rock
We headed north to Visby, an island paradise
A force six gale sprang up
And the swell was not very nice.

We could not berth alongside
Nor use tenders to the shore
So we just had to ride out the sudden storm
We couldn't do much more.
This cruising crowd are hardy
And they enjoy this holiday time at sea
There was little sign of mal-de-mer
We all turned up for tea.

We set a course for Stockholm
And arrived there in great style
With a Swedish band to greet us..... ...
Tour buses lined up, in single file.
A truly wonderful city
Seen on a bright warm sunny day
Wide boulevards and great green parks
Shop assistants, who had a smile and winning way.

I touched upon Helsinki.................
A favourite port of mine
I visited the Olympic Stadium
And sampled a wee glass of the local wine.......
A photographic paradise
Architecture to stun the mind
Finland is a treasure trove
Any fault was hard to find.

St Petersburg, the jewel in the crown
Deserves an accolade of its own
For plain words cannot describe
The splendour that was shown.
The palaces, the massive public squares
The churches, tall spires and golden dome...........
The bridges and the waterways
This is what we came to see, this is why we all left home.

Little Lithuania offered us a newly opened port
Klaipeda, new on the tourist trail
The wooden structured buildings
Tried to impress, they didn't fail
So different from the grandeur
We had encountered upon this cruise
We were met by dancing schoolchildren
Who had been sent to us amuse............

Then we set sail for England
Southampton, and then onward home
Having cruised the Baltic
No more this year to roam.


A Scottish Love Poem

(Who said Scottish guy's aren't romantic?)

A' coorse ah love ye darlin'
Ye're a bloody tap notch burd.
An' when ah say ye're gorgeous
Ah mean iv'ry single word.
So yer bum is oan the big side
Ah don't mind a bit o flab.
It means that whin ah'm ready
There's somethin' therr tae grab.
So yer belly isny flat nae merr
Ah tell ye, ah don't cerr.
So long as when ah cuddle ye
I cin get mah erms roon' therr.
Nae wummin wha is your age
Hiz nice roon' perky breasts.
They jist gave in tae gravity
Bit ah know ye did yer best.
Ah'm tellin ye the truth noo
Ah nivir tell ye lies.
Ah think its very sexy
Thit ye've goat dimples oan yer thighs.
Ah swerr oan mah grannies grave noo
The moment thit we met.
Ah thocht ye wiz as guid as
Ah wiz ivir goanie get.
Nae maitter whit ye look like
Ah'll aywiz love ye dear.
Noo shut up while the fitba's oan
An' fetch anither beer.


Birthday Cards and Poems

I got home late, Aboot seven thirty Face all haggard Clothes all dirty Went to the fridge To get me a beer But the nectar was gone I drank it last year So I sat doon a spell to ponder my quandary I wonder if there's any Deed presidents in the laundry Then I opened your card And what did I see Andrew Jackson and Grant Staring at me And that letter of verse Struck like a chord And that rapier wit Cut like a (s)word So I went to the store To get what I must A shelf in the back Gathering dust Boddingtons is smooth But that's not my sale What I feel like tonight Is some Newcastle Brown Ale Keep all your Budweiser Your Pabst and Bud lite I know what I want The rest is just shite So back home I sped With booty in hand A treasure to be sure From jolly England I got back in the hoose Shook off the snow And drank me a toast To the best man I know.

(the toast was to you- in case it was ambiguous)




I watched the saline droplets well up into his eyes
Spill over and run freely to my great surprise.
He was my hero my rock, my friend
And to my daily needs he'd tend
What disaster could cause such grief
His face was a mask of disbelief
I later learned to my dismay
His final visit was to be today.

My health prognosis was never good
The medics had done all they could
I'd lived my life in a metal shroud
He was my Dad and I was proud
That he called me son and stroked my head
He held my hand and sat by my bed
Alas those tears never before seen
Were there when they turned off my machine

Fear not dear friend 'tis but a poem
A darkened verse as my mind did roam
Inspired by a care worn sigh
When someone asked if a man could cry
Men are beings wherein emotions dwell
And experience life in every cell
To control ones feelings does not mean
That one is bereft, because they're not seen
A weakness is ascribed to tears
So man has learned to hide his fears
Instead he cries within his being
And grieves without the whole world seeing.


Baby Blue

My life starts and ends with you
Baby... my baby blue

The freshness of the morning
The grass all damp with dew
Arouses all my senses
And reminds me love, of you.

My one and only baby
My love, my baby blue.

My world revolves around you
Without you, what would I do
My dependence dear is total
I'm in love with what you do

You are my life, that's true
You are my heartbeat, baby blue

You are in the air I breathe
You guide me in what I do
You are my everything
For you are my baby....... blue!


A Halloween Visit

A weakened sun slips from the sky

Darkness rules in its place,

The October moon, obscured by cloud

Illuminates not, their face.

For ghosts and ghouls set foot abroad

On this eve of Halloween,

Gathering souls to attend their ball

Via the gates of the guillotine

The dead are raised from their musty graves

As the moon breaks through the cloud

Disturbed at rest, these spectres moan

And the banshee wail out loud.

Pumpkin heads with eyes aflame

Light up the darkness of the night

Witches with their familiars, came

Vampires to kiss, then bite!

A chill wind whistled around my chair

The fire did douse, then die

The Devil emerged from a dank gray mist

Fire raged in his eye.

His hand flicked forth to grasp my arm

I flinched and moved away,

"The Halloween Ball was to have been here tonight,

Shall you send my friends, away?"

A strident, piercing, ringing tone

Dispersed the phantoms of the night

The door bell persisted, so I arose

And once more walked into the light.

I reached the door and threw it open wide

To greet my callers and invite them in

"Trick or treat?" the ghost horde cried

Led by the Devil..... with an impish grin!



Gabriel's Horn

It's a tale of the Supernatural

That's the tale I wish to tell

Where Ghouls most foul and Ghosties

Came marching right out of Hell.

Fiendish apparitions,

That did stun and shock the mind,

Did freeze the blood within the vein

These forebears of Mankind.

What was it that disturbed them?

Why should they come forth this way?

Bringing with them from THAT place

The debt they must repay.

Was it the Horn of Gabriel

That had summoned those long dead?

Was this the Day of Judgment

Which all Ghosts and Ghoulies dread?

Nay, 'tis but a legend that repeats itself

Each millenium, or there about,

When Ghost and Ghoulies hear the call

And all Hell is emptied out!

Beware of the Supernatural

And the tales that are often told,

For when the Horn of Gabriel sounds

It summons both young and old.




LDB 7/9/94







My Little Cockney Sparrow

I 'ad a little bird like that
Stuffed an' stood up on a twig
Housed in an upturned fish bowl
Well, 'e wasn't very big.

'ad a sparkle in 'is eye 'e did, but
Ah' never 'eard him sing
Ah called 'im Alfie, me ole cock sparrow
Looked after 'im like a king.

Ah carried 'im up the 'Apples & Pears
When ah went up there tuh kip
Placed 'im on the bedside table
'cause mah room was such a tip.

Ah 'eard a ringing on the 'Dog and Bone'
An ah reached out, half asleep
Knocked ole Alfie crashing tuh the floor
He never let out a peep.

Nah Alfie's upturned fish bowl
Lies broken on the floor
I'll never keep another bird
No! Not me, no more!


  R & R

Ah'm ah pullin up sticks
Gonna hit the road
Thought ah'd do it
Afore it snowed.
Got a hankerin
Tuh go abroad
Leaving mah horse
Taking the ole T Ford.
So iffin you don't hear
From me in a while
You'll know ah'm off travellin
And ah'm doing it in style.
Don't y'all worry none
Fer ah'll be back
With a passel o' anecdotes
In mah gunny sack.

Ole Daffyd.



November 11th

We will always remember, or so the saying goes
But just what will they remember
That veteran in the ragged clothes?
His medals weighing heavy now
As he stands with a slight list to port
Will they remember what he saw
Or the battles this man fought?

Having secured the peace he returned back home
To the promised land.... he thought
But promises made by Governments
All added up to nought.
No job, no home, no prospects
For this once brave and fighting man
Just a chestful of worthless medals
Not included in the 'peacetime' plan.

Yes we will remember them
And the sacrifices made
But once they are out of uniform
We forget the part they played.
Your old neighbour who lives down the street
What did he do in the war?
Not much? He's such a quiet soul
No he won't speak of what he saw.

Armed forces battle worn and weary
Are remembered on this day
Thereafter they are forgotten
And their achievements locked away
The task they face is a daily one
Facing death throughout the year
When you see that old man and his medals
Do you really care?


Sailing 2011


'Tis I the traveller, safe returned
Refreshed, invigorated, though slightly burned
Fresh from adventures in the Med
With a myriad of thoughts running through my head
Setting forth into a placid sea
Not aware what did wait for me
It came about on the second day
As we were crossing Biscay Bay

A bit of a blow filled our virtual sail
A squall, some rain, and stinging hail
A choppy sea that rose and fell
Some of my shipmates didn't feel so well
'Hang in there mate' was my cheery cry
'We'll be in Cadiz ere by and by
There the sun will shine and dry you out'
"Stow it lad" was their chorused shout.

I just adored those days at sea
The sun, the rain, the wind, ah me!
Striding those decks in that bracing air
Without a worry, without a care.
Cadiz and then onward East to Greece
Looking for Jason and the Golden Fleece
Corfu, colonised in 734 BC
By the Corinthians (well before you or me)

Corfu pledged herself to Rome
And for five centuries allowed them to call her 'home'
But when the Roman Empire fell
Corfu came under the Byzantine spell.
Then Venetians, Russians, French did rule
And with them brought the printing press, and school
In 1814 Napoleon to the British fell,
The French Garrison in Corfu as well.

Later in 1858 Gladstone (our Premier) did a visit make
With lots of decisions for him to make
In exchange for gold (from the Golden Fleece?)
Did cede the islands to their neighbour Greece.
The island's income is derived from olive oil
With tourism now a major toil
Tolerating the likes of me
A curious vistor that came from the sea.

To be continued.......



(Part two)



Korcula a small island, hilly and richly green
Ten times as long as it is wide
A Croatian treasure that must be seen
Thirty miles long by three, and that's from side to side
A sea bound compact peninsular
So says our Hellenic guide

For Korcula was settled..... 4th Century BC
By colonists from Asia Minor
It all sounds Greek to me.
High quality white marble,
Is their stone of choice
Quarried to build their village homes
And to give their island, voice
Its export recorded in ancient tomes

Sent to Dubrovnik, Split and beyond
A site so pleasing to the eye
And one to which I have become quite fond.
Masonry and shipbuilding their trades of long ago
Attracted subjugation, isn't always so?

Greeks, Romans, Byzantines
Invaded to set Korcula free
Then stayed around until the Venetians came
Around 1000 years AD
The Venetian influence was enormous
Korcula prospered under it
Until Croatia, Hungary, Bosnia
Fought for their own little bit.

In 1420 it was again the turn of Venice
Yet once more it was not to last
Plague and fire had their way
As so often in the past
The hordes of Europe took their turn
Austria, France and Russia,
Great Britain in there too
Italy, Germany, watched villages burn
Annexed by Yugoslavia
That's all that they could do.

Yugoslavia alas fragmented, Croatia stepped in then
An ongoing ownership, until who knows when?




(Part Three)


Having slipped our moorings we set forth once more

This time we were headed for a very different shore.

In fact to the Lagoon of Venice in the Adriatic Sea

With its canals and bridges and 'one cornetto' just for me!

Sediments of sand and shale forced down rivers year on year

Formed 118 tiny islands about which no one had a care.

For Grado and Aquileia were the main cities of the day

Inhabited by the Romans who had no interest in the bay.

In centuries five and six barbarians did invade

And the Veneti, (inhabitants of those cities) to escape the raid

Were forced to seek refuge on those islands the rivers made.

Slowly the various settlements united

Though still retaining the 'Roman' look

Elected themselves a ruler A non- hereditary dodge, or duke.

Anxious to be free from Rome they sought allies new

Byzantines helped them fight off many a motely crew.

Saracens, Normans, pirates, from all quarters came

But the Veneti and Byzantines proved that they were game.

They achieved domination of the Adriatic

From those islands in the lagoon

And with superhuman effort built their city, none too soon.

For the real break came in 1202 Frankish armies asked for her aid

To ship the Frankish army to fight in the Fourth Crusade.

Thus Venice made her fortune with strategic toeholds in the East

The sacking of Constantinople was the main dish of that feast.

Alas it was to be her undoing as the Turks ran wild and free

Capturing that city in 1453

The Turks marched on through Yugoslavia to Vienna's very gate

The defence of Venice was robust, but they had left it very late.

Venice then lost her dependencies, squabbled with all around

And fell to Napoleon, without a wimper, without a sound.

The last doge was deposed by Napoleon Bonaparte

The new future for Venice was about to start.

In conclusion may I say a word about the Bridge of Sighs

Reasons for such a name has confused the very wise

In fact it was the access from the palace courts into the cells

Where prisoners were to cross,and embrace their private hells

One last look at the outside world and the prisoner would sigh

Knowing that it would have to last, until the day he dies.






In those days of yore.....1492
Columbus was looking for something to do
He sought a patron to invest
In a trip he'd planned.....ooh way out west
Queen Isobella liked his persuasive style
And backed his plan for a little while
Come back home on these ships cheerie
With the gold and silver that you promised me.

He sailed forth with three gallant ships
With the promise of gold issuing from his lips
Five weeks into this epic quest
Continually heading, west, Nor/west
Despondency did beset his crew
But Columbus knew just what to do
The first man to call out, 'Land ahead!'
Would be rewarded with silver, and royally fed.

Rodrequez a simple Spanish sailor
Normally shipped in a Norwegian whaler
Was duty bound in the ship's crow's nest
Yelled, 'Land ahoy' and pointed West
'I claim the prize, I want all to know!'
"No way I saw that land four hours ago!"
'Twas Columbus who made this spurious claim
" I claim the prize and so end this game!"

Rodders fumed and cussed and spat
And history has it long after that
That Rodders unable to stand the strife
Dejected, broken, took his own life.
Whilst Columbus claimed immortality
For discovering a place he did not see
His story is legend as is his boast
But he was haunted by Rodders ghost!


Walk With Me

Walk with me while I age

Be a constant at my side

Walk beside those still waters

To a place my love resides

Walk with me through golden meadows

Through woods of ancient trees

Walk o'er hills bedecked with flowers

A smorgasbord for honey bees

Walk with me and share my sorrow

Of all disharmony and strife

Walk with me through the ages

Be by my side throughout my life

Walk with me while I age

And yet see not this ageing beau

Stride for stride, let's walk together

As we did many years ago.


Deep is the cup that contains my sorrow

And from it I am required to sip

Daily, until that bright tomorrow

When that draught is dashed from hand and lip.

I grieve for loved ones exposed to danger

In the conflict that surrounds my home

Brought down upon us by hostile stranger

Causing exodus from the land I roam.

Joining weary exiles

I traverse this war torn land

Seeking refuge, seeking shelter

Begging with my out stretched hand

I am but one among a faceless throng

Who's cries doth fill the air

Who seek the sanctuary of the strong

And an end to our despair.

The journeys that we undertake

Are forced upon us by our plight

Such is the exodus we must make

If we are to avoid the sectarian fight

We seek the sanctuary of neighbouring lands

Their hospitality, food and care

A tented village on burning sands

And what compassion they have to spare.

Pause a moment in your daily life

And consider the reported news

Envisage the heartache and the strife

And the upheaveal such exodus ensues

Who gains from actions of this sort

What benefits are achieved?

We the exiles need your support

For we are indeed, agrieved.












Copyright © 2005 David Burt , all rights reserved