Bradford-on-Avon Beauty

 

Bradford beauty cupped in hills

Through which the Avon flows

Where Saxon temple prompts the soul

From whence its spirit rose

Lock-up old with fish of gold

And curved bridge leading o'er

The duck-filled bubbling waters

Where aeons passed before

Past sunlit Sunday finery

By clear bells called to church

And up the narrow Chantry path

Down which town drunks might lurch

Then up again to gain the heights

Of alleys filled with cats

And hidden lofty gardens

With seats of whitened slats

Clematis and aubrietia

Splashed brightly on the walls

Of cosy cluttered cottages

Before the steep way falls

Down the varied hillside routes

To where warehouses stand

Like golden obelisks cast up

From out the bedrock land.