English village
Village churches
English country house
The cosy world of England in our dreams
Logs fires burning brightly
In English country homes
Warm settees a dog
And proud oak beams
But this was for the favoured few
Those of private means
The moneyed class
The gentry
The aristocracy
The rest of us two up two down
The terraced row
The dirty town
And country houses
We saw them on TV
My Maggie used to tease me
About my grand estates
Those grand houses where I used to dwell
An Abbey and a monastery
An English country pile
A house in Rome
Merulana style
I left my northern miner’s house
And lived in places grand
For forty years majestic mansions all
So now this two-bed semi
Doesn’t compare at all
But I settled right enough
It’s my own stall
I was born in a manor house
Did I ever tell you that?
When Manchester’s maternity moved away
Collar House in Prestbury
I visited one morn
I knew it yes I knew it
I was to the manor born!
Brian Fahy
26 August 2021
Erris Poetry 