Copyright © 2005 Martin Newell Pepys 0.1 Blogware © Steve Dix
St Leonard's Bees
Here, in the niche
Where the clock dial was
Beside the porch, the bees fly in
And taxi out in autumn sun
As if acknowledging as one
The Master's work was never done
And on this morning of them all
The church is open and the bells
Ring carillons of older lives
Reverberating through the wall
To one of England's oldest hives
Plague had made the churchyard fat
Musket balls had scarred the door
Rain had scoured the stonework thin
Gushing from a gargoyle's grin
High up on the oblong tower
While St Leonard's bees poured in
Mediaeval wheels had come
Rumbled up the rutted hill
Parliament had banged its drum
Cromwell's men had done God's will
Farther down, along the river
Sailing ships moored side-by-side
Creaked and listed in the channel
Trapped like lovers by the tide
While the distant City burned
Till St. Leonard's bees returned
Heard the clang of anvil, hammer
And the early engines stammer
Shared the air with Zeppelin
Still the bees came sailing in
Mariner and fisherman
Soldier, clerk and engineer
Christened, married, buried here
Knew this church, these bells
these bees.
Lived and died in days like these
On this morning of all mornings
Now the old satsuma sun
Lifts its head in mid-September
While there's nectar in the cup
And the church is opened up
Still, they come, St Leonard's bees
Drifting in on days like these.
Spring and Port Lane
Let me see you home again
In the hat-pins of the rain
Timber Hill and Parsons Lane
Up Hythe Hill in heartbeats
This romance conducted here
After chips and pints of beer
Till we overcome our fear
Up the road to Jan & Phil's
Major cures for minor ills
I will bring your headache pills
In the traffic of the day
Greenstead Road to Lightship Way
Can I stop the cars to say
We are now an item?
Like two cygnets in the sedge
Moorhens on the water's edge
All along these banks I pledge
Love ad infinitum
Ernie Doe's to B&Qs
Hammered out in four-be-twos
Tell the whole wide world the news
I will still adore you
Till the lorries cease to rumble
Till the sales run out of jumble
Till the Uni towers crumble
I will tumble 4 U
Up Hythe Hill and home again
Past the rainbow on Port Lane
Hung there like a petrol stain
Walk with ghosts of engineers
Fishermen and cavaliers
Through the cavalcade of years
Up Hythe Hill in soaking jeans
Wind in trees, like tambourines
Only we know what this means
Up Hythe Hill in heartbeats.