The Ancient Village of Hanham

The Ancient Village of Hanham

The village stood beside a hill,

Unspoiled by factory smoke or mill.

The woods and fields and gardens gay

Made lovely many a summer’s day.

On quiet road and village green

The children at their play were seen;

No crowds were there on pleasure bent,

And over all was sweet content.

A maypole then their joys enhanced

Where Hanham lads and lasses danced;

And at the blacksmith’s shop hard by

The anvil rang and sparks flew high.

The blacksmith’s shop was the village hub,

Both meeting house and social club;

For whilst the smithy made the shoes,

The gossips told the latest news.

The Hanham bus was the village pride,

In those slow times, what a treat to ride!

It ran to town a league away

An ample service – twice a day.

The pace was slow and very sure,

The journey took an hour or more,

If on the way a friend you’d see

The driver stopped quite cheerfully.

Or should you in a shop espy,

Some trifle you would wish to buy;

Again he’d stop. Your neighbours kind

Would chatter on, they did not mind.

There were no trams with fearful din,

And Sunday traffic was a sin;

No motors then with maddening pace

Despoiled the country’s lovely face.

The boys played rounders in the in the street,

When the local cop was off his beat;

And on the main road ducks and hens

Seemed quite as safe as in their pens.

  

A well known structure to be found

Where two roads met was the village pound.

Should cattle from their pastures stray

Twas in the pound they had to stay. 

I’ve heard the very old folk tell

Of childhood pranks and frights as well;

Of how they oft were roused from sleep

By bleating lambs and baa-ing sheep.

And how before the break of day,

They’d hear a donkey’s dismal bray;

Or else would start at the din and rattle

Of a pounded herd of lowing cattle.

Before the pound there stood the stocks,

Complete with seat and chain and blocks;

And when a man himself disgraced

Twas here, securely, he was placed.

Round him no doubt the lads would muster,

And older folk as well would cluster;

was fun for them with jeers and mocks

To taunt the poor wretch in the stocks.

Those days have passed, the stocks are gone

The old walls have been built upon;

For this strange place our likes selected

To have our Sunday School erected.

No more are heard the baas and brays,

But children singing songs of praise;

And where the culprit crouched in fear

The young now meet God’s love to hear.

So ‘Hanham Pound’ is famous yet

As school and church, and don’t regret

As if odd it sounds, it links us still

To days that were both good and ill.

For centuries the Pound had stood,

A place of shame and little good,

But in the years to come we pray

That Hanham Pound will point the way,

And worthily proclaim the word

That comes from Christ, the Living Lord.

Fred Britton 1919

 Minor changes by

 H. D. Hales 1944