I know a quaint, old cottage,
with a creaky, squeaky stair,
And a shiny, old, brass bedstead
stands, quietly, waiting there.
The water in the kitchen's
from a leaky, squeaky pump,
The room is lit by gaslight,
the flickering shadows jump.
Outside you'll find a beehive,
and hairy, furry bees,
You'll see quaint carts, and wagons too,
exciting things are these !
Close by you'll see the Blacksmith
ply his glowing, blowing trade,
Perhaps YOU'LL pump the bellows,
and watch a horse-shoe made.
Then maybe you'll see 'Warrior',
a stout shire horse is he,
But, sadly, he is now so old
he can no longer see.
His Keeper has more livestock,
a ferret of pure white,
Be careful if you stroke it,
oh, HOW they love to bite !
He also has a Tamworth pig,
some geese and 'Redcaps' too,
(A Redcap is a breed of hen,
but then, I'm sure you knew) !
By now, I guess you're thinking,
"this sounds a strange, old place".
Victorian ? Edwardian....?
its History, YOU must trace !
It's not so very far away,
and your reward is great,
At 'Elvaston Museum',
a true Working Estate.
by
Shirley Frances Winskill 1986
(now read, 'The Song of the Elvaston Wheelwright')
