A Yorkshire Tale

Yorkshire, 1914 I patch mended her copper saucepan, Edged an axe, two cleavers and a knife. I did all the jobs that were required. By this comely young farmer’s wife. She served me a platter of rare beef With chunks of home baked bread, And along each large slice of meat Relish of horseradish was spread. She served me there in her kitchen Sat me at a large wooden bench As I watched all around the room A young and fine buxom a wench. She slid on my knee quite suddenly And I held her there in my arms. For how could any young man Refuse an offer of such charms She kissed my mouth with a passion. She kissed me with a lust and desire, That set may pulses off racing That set my whole body on fire. I held her for all of that evening And most of that coming night, Enjoying the play of our passion The pleasure and sheer delight. She served me a farmhouse breakfast. For which my whole body yearned. Eggs and home slaughtered bacon Bread, and butter near freshly churned I held her once more in that kitchen In thanks for the love we had made Then out to follow my fortune, A wandering Jack of all Trade. I could hear Shires in the stable That fine November’s morn As I set off on my journey Just at the crack of dawn. I strode away quite briskly Down that winding cart track, My body so pleasantly sated, Possessions slung over my back. Oh how I so love this my freedom To enjoy while there’s still chance For I reckon it’ll soon be the recruiter And a spell in the trenches of France. Maybe this really happened. I wonder did he survive The carnage of that bitter war To come back whole and alive. Yorkshire 2022