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The Rolling English Road

By Guest Author • 25th March 2011 06:18pm • Posted in Misc

Cuckmere Haven 1939 © Estate of Eric Ravilious

The Rolling English Road
by G.K. Chesterton

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.

His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.

My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.

Courtesy of Mr. Graeme Fife

Comments

Paul Etherington

26th March 2011 08:13am

Fabulous!
I'm off to work now in Newcastle, by way of Aberdeen.
;-)

Mike Owen

1st April 2011 02:36am

Much appreciated

Can I also suggest 'Senex' by John Betjeman?

Pamela Dow

5th April 2011 03:05pm

I'm organising a mixed ability group of 15 to do the new Morecambe to Bridlington coast to coast route in May, and wrote a homage to Chesterton while trying to avoid doing the general B&B and sherpa admin. Will be nice on the T-shirts maybe…

Before the Tudors won the throne or out to Towton strode,

The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.

A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles twixt the shires,

But after him the cyclist came, with shiny spokes and tyres;

A merry road, a hilly road, and such as we did climb

The day we went to Pateley Bridge, well fed by Palatine.



I knew no harm of rail travel but plenty of the car,

And for to fight the HGV I did not much desire;

But I did bash their wing mirrors because they came too near

And dared to nudge the peliton, descending from the rear.

And you and I whizzed round the bend and overtook the van,

The day we crossed the River Ouse, by way of The Green Man.



Our sins they were forgiven us; or why do flowers bloom

Beside us in the hedgerows as we pass in tight costume?

Us cyclists wend from west to east and know not which is which,

But that the white rose is ahead, and to each side, a ditch.

God pardon us, nor harden us; we saw our way for miles

The time we went from sea to sea, across the British Isles.



My friends we will not go again, unless we cast our votes

Next year to set ambitious sights and aim for John O’Groats

But ride with tired thighs and wrists this road that wandereth,

And sample scones and Yorkshire tea and stop to catch our breath;

For there are good things yet to see, and new tyres to turn shabby,

As we make our way to Bridlington by way of Fountains Abbey.

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