Visiting Hamptonne - Cider Days

Visiting Hamptonne yesterday reminded me of this poem from October 2004, which was runner up in the poetry competition (adult class) held that year for poems about cider and apples. It's a bit risqué but rather fun.

It is lovely that the young Jersey calves are there, pigs, sheep and goodness knows how many hens and cockerels. The more modern house has also been revamped to around war and just post-war which is a delight, and there is a new exhibition area which currently has stunning photos of wildlife.  A great place for a picnic, and sunny weather, but not as busy as the cider festival, which I still remember very fondly.

Cider Days

Sing we a song of the harvest home
Of maidens fair, and lads who roam
Sing of dalliance, should they meet.
Quaff of our cider, the finest, sweet.

This is the time of our cider making
Cabbage loaf, Wonders, all for baking
Sing in the farmyard, take the apple
While lad and maiden in lusty grapple.

The farm horse turns the cider crusher
Apples crunched, no fair smell sweeter
Sing now of the old farm days of clover
While lad and maiden, now rollover.

More apples to fetch from orchard now
Heave carts and barrows past the cow
Pick the apples, some to eat and savour
This year, the maiden is now in labour.

With some for bake, and some for crumble
This is our Jersey apple, so very humble
But best of all, drink upon cider days
While nearby mother with baby plays.