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And when I go walking I do like to see
Old Jeremy Straw standing guard
Over eiderdown fields;
He laughs with the wind and no-one knows

That, under the grey coat that tickles the grass,
Rests one who was human once but
Now hides behind a mask
Which, frozen by time, makes mock of men.

When angry clouds gather he fears not the rain,
He feels no discomfort – his
Life-blood is long since drained;
As equals, he smiles at day and night.

In trench-coat and trilby and worn woollen gloves
He waits at the top of the hill
As if his feet had never moved,
His home: his throne: his all-alone.

Now who should discover the secret he holds?
For I robed him in rags and I set
Him to hold his court with crows.
His flesh turns to dust and no-one knows ....
photo: Paul Glazzard

Created: November 17, 2014. © Stephen Alsford