Granchester
This lovely poem was written by Keith Paterson, and it is about a beautiful village, which is situated about two miles from Cambridge ….
GRANTCHESTER
It’s Summertime in Grantchester, with fields of green and gold,
Where students frolic on the Granta, making me feel old.
What ghosts lurk here amongst the mists, when Summer evening’s done ?
Of Brooke, Byron, Keynes and Woolf and Russell, now all gone.
It’s Autumn time in Grantchester and Freshers come to find
That dreaming spires and nubile girls make study worth the grind.
The two mile walk from by the lock along the water’s edge
Is time enough to plight a troth or some romantic pledge
It’s Winter time in Grantchester, the Orchard’s damp and bare
But still they come when days are bright to drink without a care.
Next term, they say, they’ll really work and show the rest they will
Get ‘Firsts’ without much trouble – meanwhile they take their fill.
It’s Spring again in Grantchester, the Granta’s running strong.
The willow’s green, the may is out, the air is full of song.
And still they come to Grantchester to shake off winter’s gloom,
So tranquil by the water’s edge compared with their dark room.
It’s Summertime in Grantchester, was ever place so fair,
So English to its very roots – a place without a care.
The student’s gone, the tourist’s here to marvel at the sight
Of distant spires across the fields, seen in the fading light.
Written by: Keith Paterson
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