None-Go-By Poem by C Richard Miles

None once went by None-go-by, when it was named, in history,
Before the turnpike ran its course from Skipton up to Cracoe;
The lonely farmstead rested, lost, embedded in the dale’s side,
Until the planners chose the route the rambling road should take, so…

…All could go by None-go-by and race along the roadway
In haste to get to Grassington, brash traffic roughly rumbling.
Castaway, the farm awoke from sleeping in the silence
And, blinking in the headlights’ glow, accusingly moaned, grumbling…

…“Some may go by None-go-by, respecting my seclusion
But some are speeding as they drive, disturbing me from sleeping;
Yet I will wait here, silently, much older than their lifetimes
And will outlast them, as the price of fuel is now leaping…”

…Few will go by None-go-by, for fear they will waste petrol
When daytripping’s a luxury, so less will climb the steep hill
And the ancient, dreaming dwelling can sleep undisturbed and peaceful,
As vehicles’ roar will dwindle down and die and, as for people…

…None will go by None-go-by, all awed by apprehension
That oil will disappear and leave all speedsters at a standstill.
From its daydreams wakes the farm, in triumph boldly thinking,
“Changeless, I have conquered cars and stout my stones shall stand still.”

None need go by None-go-by, now nature’s needs are noticed
As global warming’s evidence wails out its woeful warnings
That call for change to tenderer times the faithful farmhouse fosters
And dares to dream a distant dawn of cleaner, greener mornings.