A Life In The Country

A Life In The Country (or the tale of a poor City boy)

Now I’ve been a City boy for all of my life,

But of the town I’d had my fill,

So I was persuaded down into Wiltshire,

To share in the rural idyll.

At least, that’s what I thought when I got here,

As we moved in next to a farm,

With green fields and village nearby,

I savoured the countryside charm.

They told me the country was only two things:

That’s fornication and farming,

But there’s not much farming in winter -

Now, there’s a thought that’s alarming!

But the first full day came as a shock:

The cockerel crowed at five in the morning,

Before it had even started to get light,

Before the day had begun dawning.

I thought “this is no good to me”,

So I’ll walk to the village down the lane.

But that’s a dangerous thing to do,

Because none of the drivers are sane.

With tractors & Land Rovers out for a spin,

They take up all of the road.

So I ended up in the ditch -

It was quite a nasty episode.

But the wildlife was really amazing:

Rabbits and deer, and some pheasants.

There were horses, sheep and some cattle,

And near to the village, there was one of the peasants.

I walked past the church on the High Street,

And casually wandered into the shop.

But they’d no fresh hoummous or pastrami -

I didn’t think it was much cop.

But I soon got to know some of the locals,

For their company I was much needing.

A lot of them looked quite alike,

But I think that’s due to the in-breeding.

And local customs and pastimes,

For knowledge I was certainly yearning.

It seemed to be mostly goat-nadgering,

And the odd night of rick-burning.

Fox hunting, mole-trapping and poaching,

Their style needed no cramping.

Out in the fields in the night-time,

Shooting rabbits – or lamping.

There’s no train stations around here.

“What about buses?” I asked meekly.

“Oh there’s a regular service,

But it only goes twice weekly”.

So to do any serious shopping,

In Devizes I have to go in a car,

Which seems kind of ridiculous,

But the locals just answer “ooh-arr”.

There’s still a sub-Post Office:

For that we ought to give thanks.

It’s just as well, really,

Seeing as there aren’t any banks.

But there are many great things to enjoy:

We’ve moved away from houses like boxes.

There’s badgers and hedgehogs,

And buzzards and kestrels and foxes.

You don’t get all this fresh air in the town,

The green fields and the walking.

The peace and the quiet are splendid,

And canals – now you’re talking.

So I’ve decided it’s not too bad in the end:

I don’t want to sound stricken.

But, I’ll have to be getting along now -

It’s time I was milking the chickens.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017