The old house had finally decided to die
It has threatened to fall down for years
It had seen men arguing in the Civil War
Who’d not returned to the house any more
Who’d left wives and a vale of tears.
It’s being picked at by experts who are looking
For evidence of hideaways in the attic
A Cavalier scallywag had once hidden in the roof
When questioned by Roundheads the owners were aloof
They were then lectured by Puritans didactic.
For many years the farmland round its boundary
Had fed cattle of all sorts and colour
There’d been Jerseys and Guernseys for decades
The last century even saw milkmaids
Now it’s Gloucesters ’cause there bodies are fuller.
But it’s coming down now and it won’t be the same
The park all around here has changed
Huge estates of new houses of characterless hue
So many now needed for me and for you
But designed by a mind that’s deranged.
©Joe Wilson – The Old Manor 2014