Four Shires Guild of Bell Ringers

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A Poem

Dear Chris, I thought you might be interested in the enclosed 'poem' for the FSG Newsletter. It was sent to us by some American visitors, who joined us in the tower one Thursday night practice. I am told it might not be complete! Best wishes, Ann Bourne, Blockley.

by Hugh Chesterman

William the First was the first of kings,
Not counting Ethelreds, Egberts & things.
He had himself crowned, anointed & blessed,
In 1066 - I needn't tell you the rest.
But being a Norman, King William the First,
By the Saxons he conquered was hated and cursed.
They planned and they plotted far into the night,
Which William could tell, by their candles alight.
So William decided these rebels to quell
By ringing a curfew a sort of a bell.
And if any man was found out of bed,
At eight o' clock sharp, it was off with his head!

At Bong number one they were off at a run,
	like a warren of rabbits upset by a gun.
At Bong number two they were all in a stew,
	flinging cap after tunic and hose after shoe.
At Bong number three they were bare to the knee,
	undoing the doings as fast as could be.
At Bong number four they were stripped to the core,
	putting on nightshirts the wrong side before.
At Bong number five they were looking alive,
	bizzing and buzzing like bees in a hive.
At Bong number six they all gave themselves kicks,
	tripping over rushes to put out the wicks.
At Bong number seven from Durham to Devon,
	they slipped a quick prayer for revenge up to Heaven.
At Bong number eight it was fatal to wait:
	in the deuce of a state I regret to relate,
	they jumped Bong into bed like a bull at a gate!!