Rough Justice Story Poem Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg

Squire Cholmondely I presume
Was not prepared to meet his doom
when he was slaughtered by his groom.

Whose wife he made advances to
a thing no gentleman would do.
He got no more than he was due.

The groom decided he must pay
and slit his weasand one fine day
Then hid his corpse without delay.

Nobody liked the squire much
and he was often out of touch.
There was no hue and cry as such.

Nobody thought he might be dead.
The groom had dropped him so he said
to catch the coach for Maidenhead.

Where he indulged his appetite
for painted ladies of the night
Which he assumed to be his right.

The groom confessed on his death bed
that Squire Cholmondely was long dead
The priest absolved him readily.


The groom now dead had not revealed
where the body was concealed.
So that remains a mystery.


Now to this day nobody knows
the hiding place which the groom chose.
He hid it with great secrecy

Nobody cares sufficiently
to try to find where it might be
There’d be no useful purpose served.

The squire got what he deserved
I must conclude its for the best
Nobody knows where his bones rest.

Perhaps one day by happenstance
He will be found by some mischance.
Buried in some unhallowed plot.

But I would rather he was not.
The whole affair should be forgot
The past is past beyond recall

and I for one don’t care at all.
My granddad did what I would do
to anyone insulting you.

Sunday,08 November 2009

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Cholmondely is pronounced Chumly
For some obscure reason