ON THE VERDANT BANKS OF THE RIBBLE
What was there before? Before the war birds Came to the verdant banks of the Ribble: Hedgerows, meadows, hay crops and pastures Silence; Broken only by bird-song or the chattering of a Mowing machine knife and the thrum of a tractor; Out on the marsh the report of a fowler’s gun, Or in the early mist a fog-horn’s bellow from the river. First came theodolite, then the dozers and graders Gouging out a gash through the Fylde coast clay, making way For Uncle Sam’s horsemen riding out from Savannah: Through clouds and waves the cavalry came to save the day An ocean apart, bound by a fractious history and blood: Good ol’ boys
