Rock A Tots UK Westmoors

Opening hours

7.30am to 6pm Monday to Friday, 51 weeks of the year. Daily sessions run from 8am to 6pm with the option of an earlier, pre-booked drop off.

Term time / All Year

All Year

Michał Kuźniar

7 months ago

In West Moors village, where tall pines sway, A nursery glimmers by night and by day. Not built of stone, nor guarded by towers, But filled with laughter, with kindness, with flowers. They say in the forest, long ages before, A witch wove her spells near the old Ringwood shore. She brewed in the shadows, she whispered with trees, Her curses were carried on night’s chilly breeze. But centuries turned, and the darkness grew thin— And light in the forest at last entered in. Where once there was fear, now joy brightly blooms, Where spells once were spoken, now echo sweet tunes. This nursery appeared like a jewel in the land, Guided by Clare, with her wise, steady hand. A queen without crown, yet noble of heart, She rules with compassion, both gentle and smart. She opens the doors to each family in need, She listens with kindness, she leads with good deed. Her voice is a comfort, her care like a flame, And all in her kingdom sing praise of her name. There shines Lilly, with curls spun of gold, Her smile tells stories too loving to hold. It softens all sorrow, it brightens the day, It turns children’s worries to laughter and play. She walks through the nursery, sunshine in stride, With patience and beauty that none can hide. The fairest of maidens, yet fairer still, For her heart holds a kindness no shadow can chill. But my Francis, my son, though he loves them all dear, Has one he holds closest, who always is near. It is gentle Kelly, so quiet, so small, Yet her care is the strongest fortress of all. Her hair, like the grey of a mouse in the dawn, Soft as the whispers when night turns to morn. To others it’s humble, but to Francis it’s bright, A beacon of safety, a comfort of light. And there is fair Sky, with her eyes ocean-blue, Like Dorset’s wide waters, both endless and true. Her presence is calm, like the heavens above, Her laughter a song, her spirit pure love. Together they guide him, these guardians three, Each one a bright star in his nursery sea. And over them Clare, like a queen on her throne, Ensures every child feels cherished, feels known. But the nursery is not just of present delight— It whispers of history, it sings of old might. The Jurassic Coast with its footprints of stone, Where creatures of ages past wandered alone. The proud Corfe Castle, though weathered and torn, Still rises, still watches the Dorset each morn. The Swanage Railway, like dragons of steam, Carries both travellers and children who dream. The Salisbury spire, reaching higher than all, A finger of stone, a cathedral’s tall call. The Salt Cathedral, a cavern of light, Shimmering crystals like stars in the night. They tell of William, the Conqueror bold, Who claimed the New Forest in centuries old. Of Arthur the King, with his knights so true, Whose legends still whisper where green branches grew. Of queens who were mighty, of queens who were wise, Like Elizabeth I, with fire in her eyes. They tell these great stories with gentle delight, So children see history not darkened, but bright. And here Francis blossoms, with wonder in hand, A prince of this kingdom, in this gentle land. He paints and he builds, he learns and he grows, He laughs with his teachers, his confidence shows. And Sabina and I—oh, what joy fills our hearts, To see him so happy, to watch how he starts. For where once were witches, now angels reside, And where once were shadows, now bright stars abide. So hear now my ballad, my truth, and my song: This nursery is magical, safe, kind, and strong. It is more than a building, more than a place, It is love, it is history, it is endless embrace. 🌟 To Clare, to Lilly, to Kelly, to Sky— You teach little children to reach and to fly. Five stars we give, though they’ll never suffice, For the gift that you offer is priceless as life. 🌟