Land Of Summer And Cider Too. Poem by william savage

There is a land whose name embraces
landscapes bright with flirtatious places.
Where busy fields give way to hills,
haunted by discarded mills.

A land full of happiness and cheer
and locals sing out ‘Oh ah m'dear'.
Little Hangman's vast silhouette
marks the western tip of Somerset.

To the east embraces a town of bloom,
with rustic charm and known as Froome.
It's man of speed - their famous son,
became a star of Formula One.

Cheddar Gorge to Burnham on sea,
much further than the eye can see
is Bridgwater and the City of Wells,
where farmlands echo to cathedral bells.

That is until a farmer brave,
discovered a contemporary way to rave,
perceived an alternative to crop,
created Glastonbury's festival of pop..

Further south hides Yeovil town,
industrialized heart with fields of brown.
Somerset's only League football team
have shattered many a brave fan's dream.

Old Wookey Hole has much to hide,
a broomless witch abides inside.
Dating back to Palæolithic times,
caverns echo to mysterious chimes.

Round about grow Orchards green,
their vernal scent augments the scene.
Their juice will soon gain wider prizes,
Filling kegs of different sizes.

Taunton - the County town
houses 40 Commando - well renowned.
Heroes brave their records show,
courageous deeds where ere they go.

From the Quantocks to the Mendip hills
ramblers encounter scenic thrills
enjoying picturesque splendour,
delighting the overwhelmed ascender.

Dwellers from this utopian delight,
entrust a legacy forthright,
to invite with natural anticipation,
reverence from every generation.