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Underground
Geoff Hooper

Deep sha s that never saw the sun

Beneath the fields of Purbeck run.
Forgo en quarrymen, now dead

Deaf to the lark’s song overhead,
Worked there by flickering candlelight,

While up above, the sky was bright.
And many a stained glass window’s frame
From those dark, silent caverns came.

And Purbeck mullions, straight and tall
In many an ancient, mellow wall

Of mansions, churches, towers and spires
The length and breadth of our green shires.
Some mes a probing, blind, machine

Breaks through where those old men have been,
And people say, “That’s quite a find -

Did they leave anything behind?”
I always answer, loud and clear

“Yes, quite a lot — but nothing here”.

(Editor’s note: Trev par cularly liked this poem of Geoff’s, whom he knew as a
fellow quarryman. It was read at Trev’s Memorial. It is carved into the stone in
Keates’ Quarry where Geoff worked and it is widely appreciated.)

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