The Survivor

FOUR thousand Romans came along this road,
Bound for the Severn, on the way from Rye;
My ancestor, clad in his suit of woad,
Hid in the woods and watched them marching by.
The fires they lit went roaring to the sky,
They did not leave behind a single cow;
My hungry ancestor was due to die.
But he survived, though God alone knows how.

Eight thousand Normans came along this road,
Shouting in French a nasal battle cry;
My ancestor was not in his abode,
He loved them well, but he was very shy.
They took the pigs from his most precious sty
That he had built with sweat upon his brow;
He had no money, other pigs to buy.
But he survived, though God alone knows how.

Twelve thousand workmen walked along this road
And built a factory ten stories high.
The sound of sobbing sirens was their goad;
My ancestor, who heard t hat awful sigh,
Was frankly terrified, and so am I.
He went and hid, as J am hiding now;
lie knew not what they labored at, nor why,
But he survived, though God alone knows how.

FRINGE, though I struggle not to catch your eye.
Your eye is catching mine, and so 1 bow;
But in another moment I shall fly,
And so survive, though God alone knows how.