A Lincolnshire Lad - Withcall Farm Poem by Christopher Tye

A Lincolnshire Lad - Withcall Farm

Within the wolds a great farm sits,
Imagine what you looked like in your heyday,
Trains stopping at your very own railway station,
Haystacks in the yard ready for winter,
Cattle grazing out at pasture,
As mechanisation came your workers diminished,
Long gone are the halcyon days before the Great War,
Largest of all the farms in England once were you.

Fertile pastures grew your great success and fame,
Abandoned by BR in 1956 no trains run through your station now,
Rail track ripped up and your tunnel bricked up,
Moonlight nights host the ghosts of the past.

By Christopher Tye