In England's Green And Pleasant Land Poem by Mary Champion

Bring to your mind a tranquil rural scene;
no traffic noise disturbs - no city grime;
an archetypal English village green,
where cricket will be played in summer time.
The cottages with roses round the door;
every lawn is manicured and lush.
The whole place stops for tea when clocks strike
four
and ev'ry hedgerow hosts a trilling thrush.
The roofs are thatched or clad in mossy tiles;
on Sunday church bells ring and pews are packed.
The friendly pub; the stately, mould'ring piles;
the old traditions honoured and intact.

The sun shines brightly in a cloudless sky -
Midsomer! - and someone's about to die…

Horribly! !