Perry Please

by Peter Wyton

Long ago in England,
Real old England,
Three shires formed a wheel,
With May hill at its hub,
And folk drank perry,
It made them very merry
In the farmyard, the cottage
And the village pub.
The Normans brought in pear trees
That lived for centuries,
Each hamlet and parish
Would cultivate and cherish
The fruit they called Blakeneys,
Huffcaps, Oldfields,
Which local people clad in smocks
Would guzzle in the hayfields.
Let’s get back to England,
Dear old England,
Where three shires form a wheel
With May hill at its hub,
When a pint or three of Mumblehead
Could send a ploughman home to bed
A fully paid up member
Of the cheerful club.
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