Sweet Tink went down to Tinkinswood
To see what she could see.
Arriving there, she said, "Oh, good!
A boulder here, there be,
A-weighing forty tons or more,
A Celtic burial site.
I'm drowsy, and would like a snore;
I'll sleep here overnight."
But Tink did little note it might
Be well-nigh Beltane time,
And ever since that fateful night,
She always spoke in rhyme.