April

This poem was written before the Second World War by Glenys King who was brought up in Little Coxwell with Betty Humphries, another member of St Mary’s congregation. Apparently there was quite an ‘exodus’ of villagers to pick flowers for Easter. Fernham Copse was on the Uffington Road out of Fernham and was cut down for the war effort.

Good Friday saw an exodus
We went on foot – there was no bus.
And it was a long way to walk,
But we would skip and laugh and talk,
And the time would soon elapse,
And we’d arrive at Fernham Copse.
There, amidst it’s leafy bowers
We’d pick all the leaves and flowers
That we possibly could.
It was a lovely primrose wood.
Then, home again we’d wend our way,
Very contented with our day,
But Ringdale Hill seemed very steep
As we climbed it with tired feet.
Journeys end was then in sight
And, tired, we’d have an early night.
Next morning, bright and alert,
We’d take our primroses to church,
For them to be arranged in little vases,
And arrayed at the Easter Sunday service.
The church looked lovely on Easter Day,
And we had helped in our small way.
We looked around with great satisfaction,
Then turned our thoughts to the chocolate confection,
Awaiting us when we got home.
Oh! Didn’t the sermon make us groan,
And time really did seem to drag,
Because all we wanted was our Easter Egg . . .
Glenys King