A Pembridge Poem

The following poem was sent into us by Huw Parsons for us to share with you.

Half – Timbered Sonnets

Oh, these half-timbered sonnets,
Cleverly constructed
Have through time and weather
Warped upon a twisted tilt.

And hidden deep within their walls
Who knows what?
A child’s single shoe,
A miser’s lost hoard,
And somewhere I am certain,
Double-edged I’m certain,
A ploughshare beaten sword…..

Oh, picture generations
Who’ve thronged these habitations
Now in the churchyard, lost…..

An ale-wife pulls her husband’s hair
While Lucifer looks on,
They fight beside the open hearth –
They tip the black cauldron.

So rolling on the earthen floor
They swing the chain hung kettle,
‘Til wattle-daub shakes dust
On their newly polished settle.

And mad old ‘Sailor Tompkyn,’
Who never past a shoreline went,
Tells tales of salty mermaids
With hearts brim full of bad intent.

He tells it to the bacon sides
And asks them what they wish
‘Til his precious leather tankard
Swirls about with strange sea fish.

And to those Gwatkin children
Who rode their nightmares to the west
I say don’t fear you little dears
Go back and take your rest.

For though six-hundred years have passed
I see your awful dragon dreams
So given them a mention in
These Pembridge rhyming schemes……

Three farthings for posterity,
A single spur for luck,
Such meagre things for evermore
Still hidden in the cruck!

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