SADBERGE

 

SADBERGE

A wand'ring walker takes his ease

In sleepy place called Hill of Pleas

A quiet village in the sticks

Side-lined by the Sixty-Six

Weary, lays down a fond rucksack

By a quite intriguing plaque

That tells a tale most suggestive

How appearance can be deceptive!

Seems you think it no excess  

To boast you of a whole countess!

When dusty records are conferred 

With your pedigree they do concur

Now can it be that little you

Did rule from Barnie to the Pool?

Traces here of Iron Age home

Houses round and shards of Rome

Seems many a warrior here has strode

Took a draught at thy crossroads

In these still fields the Viking roared

Seen Norman shield and Saxon sword

Seems quite clear, there’s no mistake

Ruled you here a wapentake!

Held judge’s power o’er great estates  

‘Cross vast acres bore the weight

Hugh Pudsey took thy liberty

Used his lucre to purchase thee

Prince Bishops stole away thy crown

Set you on the slow road down

Still with secret tunnel and finest beer

The jury’s in and this is clear

From Queen Vic’s Oak to Gallows Hill

You are no mere flat-topped hill

 

 

  


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