End of An Old Song, by R.B.


 

End of an Old Song

 

I'm told I had an Uncle

  Moving around the globe, -

I really ought to find him

  By satellite or probe

He could be not too distant

  He can't be all that far -

He may be at Uttoxeter,

  He might be at Utah!

 

He could be down at Haltemprice,

  He could be up at Hull,

I might find him in Merseyside,

  In Macclesfield or Hull;

He might have gone to Lampeter,

  He may have gone to Leicester,

He could now be at Chiddingfold,

  Or Chichester or Chester.

 

One day I'm sure to find him

  In Farnham or in Fleet

Behind a chemist's counter,

  Or jogging down the street.

He might have gone to Petersfield

  By way of Polesden Lacey,

Or walked to Warninglid from Ware

  Via Bude or Bovey Tracey.

 

O Peripatetic Uncle

  Under the self-same sky -

Are you ensconced in Rochester,

  In Rejkjavik or Rye?

You may have glimpsed the Golden Gate,

  Or hung out at Hankin,

You may have seen the Gates of Hell - -

  But Oh, WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

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