A 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? DRG