Here's a little poem wot I wrote for Carl Baldaccino of the West Mercia police:

Oh, Maiden and mother, Old Hag and Crone,
Entrance and Possess me,
Make My life my own,
Oh, do not forsake me in dark or in light,
And make of my dreaming,
A sure second Sight,

For 'twas all for Bella, all for Bella,
Four lucky lads from far Hagley,
Went plucking Skulls Eggs
From the old Wych Elm tree.

On Wychbury hill, of ancient renown,
A mighty old Battle was fought near this town,
Some say it was Arthur
That carried the fray, and he lies
Beneath Saddleback hill to this day,

They say was prince Kenelm
The young Mercian King,
That Harrow ed Hell
To bring forth the spring,
Of Crystal pure water
The fair River Stour,
And he will return when
The men match the hour.

Ring any bells Carl???