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From north, south, east and west This is the town to beat the rest, Where history and present blend As through its many streets you wend. Where once a monastery so great From every view would dominate, Where Pilgrims came to pray and sing To venerate their martyred king. Within these Abbey walls once met Some barons on a mission set To compel a king accept a charter Precursor to the Magna Carta. What a wondrous place to dwell The Ivy Clad Angel Hotel Where Dickens, once a resident Let his creative juices vent. Cupola House, a splendid sight An architectural delight , Where once, it’s said, Daniel Defoe To its sheltered nooks did go. Hold your breath in skinner street Where butchers once prepared their meat It’s cobbled camber, so designed , To clear the waste they left behind. The Norman Tower, so neatly frames The Green adjacent to St James And through its medieval arch Has witnessed times relentless march. My ancestors, they all lived here, Some made boots and one sold beer Selling brogues in Miller’s shop And ales made from the finest hop. Walk down Robert Boby Way See the evening sun portray, With gleaming gold, cathedral spires And stained glass windows in its fires. The Abbey Gate, portcullis raised, From ravages of time unscathed Welcomes those that look for calm Amidst the gardens floral charm. St John’s Street, with its church and spire With shops to ramble and inspire No global brands or products here But dapper clothes and Belgian beer ! Fond memories of forgotten sights Of “Purdys” with its orange lights Suffolk and Everards hotel Art Deco Odeon as well. In Hardwick park, on summer days Shielding from the heat and haze, I’d lay beneath the cedar trees And smell the beer upon the breeze. The corn exchange and Moyses Hall The skull and doll hid in the wall, The bustling market twice a week In weather fine or weather bleak. What a joy, the Nutshell pub That sells good beer not gastro grub, They say the smallest in the land But who needs seats when you can stand ? The Theatre Royal, a Georgian Gem, Enthrals the crowds , this diadem Where life’s portrayed upon the stage It’s loves, it’s loss , it’s joy, It’s rage. The Guildhall, from Medieval days Has served the town in many ways Once home to the Observer Corps Assembly room, a court and more. The “pillar of salt” that lights the way For wanderers who’ve gone astray. A beacon of light on Angel Hill That glows to guide the traveller still. Old photos show the post office A building that the eye can’t miss Built in Queen Victoria’s reign It’s grand facade still looks the same. Standing proud, the Athenaeum Our own Georgian Palladium Scene of glamour, pomp and dances And from atop ‘celestial glances’ Towers that span the railway line Sancton wood’s grand design. Red brick with stone dressings white Greet passengers as they alight. Characters hove come and gone The cattle markets weekly throng The Tea Hut always drew a queue Where tales were told over a brew Cathedral bells on Sunday morning Sets the mind and spirit soaring Raise your eyes, gaze and admire. The vaulted ceiling in it’s spire. St Mary’s church by Honey Hill Stands like a lonely sentinel An outpost of an Abbey lost It’s Angel roof, richly embossed In its sanctuary blest MaryTudor lies at rest In the Nave, a wondrous sight Stained-glass windows in the light Shrine of a King, Cradle of the Law This shining Jewel you can’t ignore. From North, South, East and West This is the town to beat the rest.
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