Brierley Hill Poetry: A Little Song On Place Names

UnknownA Little Song On Place Names 

These little names with magic spell,
Our curious minds in bondage hold,
But who is there the tale can tell,
Their wonders to our ears unfold?
Did e’er the primrose star with gold
The ashy slopes of Primrose Hill?
Is the next Hill so very Old?
Is there a Heath at Cradley still?
Did badgers sport across Brock moor?
Or harts seed shade in Woodside cool?
did the rash urchin trace the spoor
Of bucks and does to far Buckpool?
did ever fairies make a stool
Of mushrooms growing on the Green?
Or old King Sweyn with sceptre rule
The ford that can no more be seen?
Was e’er stone quarried in that Bank
That leads the Mount Pleasant adown?
Did ever man pf princely rank
Meet death near Tipton? Did some clown
Make merry as he strolled from town
Along the slopes of Merry Hill?
Was it some might man called Brown
Threw up the Hills that stand there still?
Did the red-berried holly grow
Around some squire’s hall of yore?
Did winds in winter then lay low
The Round Oak standing at his door?
Did that same wind with angry road
And final blast bring to an End
Strewing its sails about the floor,
The Windmill, farmer Giles’ best friend?
Did e’er against the skies’ bright blue
On gossy Bank, the goest flower flame?
Can on one tell where Tackeroo
And old Bughole each got its name?
Did that vain man e’er rise to fame
Who called his pet creation Lye?
Thought, after all, was he to blame
If the place failed to please his eye?

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