The Chalky Fields at Leavening

Living on the edge of the Yorkshire Wolds, England, is mostly uneventful, but sometimes things go awry ! This fictional poem follows a similar pattern to a famous John Betjeman verse - The Licorice Fields at Pontefract.

THE CHALKY FIELDS AT LEAVENING

In the chalky fields at Leavening
my love and I did stroll
almost every evening
we never saw a soul;
blonde hair she had and copper flesh
the colours didn’t really mesh.
She was often under-achieving
at the Jolly Farmers, Leavening.

The many ales along the bar
gave off that beery smell,
yet her breath was worse by far
as though she wasn’t well;
out the front some ladies smoked
while back inside the men all joked.
Fields around were loud with bleating
sunny skies were always fleeting.

She threw a really nasty glare
at the gypsy playing pool
who then returned an icy stare
and chucked a heavy stool.
My love ! my love she couldn’t speak
her pulse became so soft and weak;
I held her above the pool of blood
but gentle words weren’t any good.