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ELMSWELL – an appreciative poem
In the early part of April nineteen-thirty-one
My rambles took me to a spot, then lying in the sun,
A rural, inland village, though not unknown to fame,
Nine miles from ancient Bury, and Elmswell is its name.
A noble church stands on a hill, thus seen for many a mile,
‘Twas built by monks of Bury in the perpendicular style.
Of stone and flint, the latter formed in patterns quaint and grand,
Designs that prove a clever mind, worked by a master hand.
A tall shaft marks a factory, close by the rail-road track,
A famous, busy industry where work is never slack;
Here English pigs are killed and cured (though Danish is the brand),
Prime hams and bacon soon are made and broadcast o’er the land.
This village boasts of Royalty, for there are several “Kings”,
“Millers” and “Bakers”, “Cooks” and “Pyes” with other goodly things,
And “Flowers” perennial bloom here – “Warrens” contain no rabbits,
Still “Hares” abound and “Greens” are found, and those who form our habits.
A famous name is “Walpole”, as history records,
And titled folks are in our midst as there are several “Lords”.
“Nunns” flourish here though not confined within a convent’s walls,
And “Friends” watch o’er our interests to see no harm befalls.
A “Bishop” holds benignant sway, though minus “See” and lands,
While “Sturgeon”, “Pike” and “Salmon” thrive far from sandy strands.
We hold our “Faires” the whole year round, custom is good each day;
“Foreman” has served his country and thus deserves his pay.
“Rubys” and “Pearls” are jewels, of these we own a few,
Of “Spencers’ ” “Boots” we have no store, but “Hoods” both old and new.
Now come and visit Elmswell, by ‘plane, rail, ‘bus or car,
There is but little in this place your happiness to mar.
Written (probably in the 1940-50’s) by
A Robinson, “East View”, Ashfield Road, Elmswell, Suffolk
(formerly “Arundel Villa”, then occupied by the Shaw family)