Mossbank Family Farm
(I wrote this poem after visiting this most welcoming of places in the Bree Homesteads)
If you of war should ever tire,
Grow weary, battling creatures dire,
I know a place where you’ll find calm,
Call in at Mossbank Family Farm.
It lies in Napgrove, close by Bree,
Drop by one day for Sunday tea.
I’m sure you’ll find a welcome there,
Where you can breathe some country air.
Up through the gate, please take it slow,
Past the byre where brown cows low.
There, just past the low stone wall,
Fine produce, laid out on a stall.
A creaking windmill slowly turns,
Near where the stable lantern burns.
Breathe in the smell of new mown hay,
And hear the horses gently neigh.
In rich, dark earth the seed is sewn,
Where every kind of crop is grown.
Rest awhile, and take your ease,
Lulled by the buzzing of the bees.
Then when you’re rested, make your way,
Up on the stoop, past flowers gay,
Though you may not have been before,
You’ll find a welcome through that door.
Of wood and stone this house is made,
And in it everywhere displayed
The fruits of honest farmers’ toil,
Who labour daily on the soil.
Find here the worth of simple things,
Which their own satisfaction brings,
Savour the smell of new-baked bread,
Upon the breakfast table spread,
Fruit and produce deck the room,
And fill it with their sweet perfume.
Upon the hob the kettle sings
Of hearth and home and happy things.
Here folk come to sell or buy,
To trade or just maybe say ‘Hi’,
Folk love to come to gossip, too,
So really, it is up to you!
So why don’t you just come and see,
Take a cup of chamomile tea,
You will not find in all of Bree,
Such warm and friendly company.
Aye, if of war you ever tire,
Grow weary, battling creatures dire,
There is a place where you’ll find calm,
Call in at Mossbank Family Farm.
