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Death of an Elm
Farewell, Ellerker, whose entrance I have guarded
These two centuries past. I have served thee well.
Conceived as one, I your father served,
And lived to tell
How both withstood the ravages of time –
Confounded
Those upstarts Buonaparte and Adolf
Who pounded our fair city.
The pinnacled tower of the ‘King’ whose bell
Sings to me across the Wold –
The boarded arms of the windmill high on
Skidby dyke will tell of my devotion.
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