My Grandad’s Poetry 13: Enough, No More Pt. 1

This is a seriously long poem, clearly the inspiration bug bit my Grandad big time when he wrote this one! To make things less intimidating, I have decided to make it episodic! What do you do when things get a bit too much for you? Drink? Fight? Or… go make a den in the woods?

I’d had enough, didn’t want any more

of this world and its rich and poor.

All fighting and mauling, its brimstone and blood

So I found me a place in Marbury Wood.

Not far from the brook, not the one from the mill

Not near the hollows between the hill.

No! Further to Marston, to the pastures rich

I dug my camp and made my pitch.


It had to be good to keep the rain out

and hidden with leaves so’s it wasn’t about,

And dry and warm with a bench and a chair

as snug as an old fox in its lair.

So I dug about in the soil and clay

and made me a nest and a shelf to lay.

Then I stood me back to look and gaze

At my woods, the brook and the waters’ haze.

Now I had no money, so I soon had to learn

To borrow sacks and a gate from a gentleman’s barn

and a good sized tarpaulin to go across that gate

for this was my roof, built atrusting to fate.

A chair and a table from Marston schoolroom

Taken in two trips by the light of the moon.

I had a door that would shut to keep out the draught

and a boat on Marbury Mere, well, it was only a raft.

I was so comfy, and tired and warm

to sleep on my sack bed I went, to wait for the dawn.

It was a lovely red morning, I had a wash and a shave

and back then for breakfast, the first in my cave.

Oh, what a pleasure, I can’t describe the thrill

of sitting there eating and drinking my fill.

On my own, no worries, only myself to blame

it’s grand, unbelievable, so glad I came.

Then I began thinking, what’s happening at the house

They’ll be looking for me, “he’s gone off like a mouse”

The police and the neighbours all walking around,

looking and listening for any small sound.

A police dog can find me, he’d sniff and he’d smell

and find my dugout hideaway in beautiful dell.

Away I must go, away for a week

Away to a rum place, as they’ll never seek.


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