A Poem of Cranleigh, Christmas 1940
How many times we’ve traversed the hills and meadows green,
In times not too far distant, when life was calm, serene.
‘Twas then that we loved CRANLEIGH, its atmosphere of grace,
Of restfulness and quiet, a pleasant, tranquil place.
The obelisk, the common, those beauteous, stately trees,
The village church, the sports-green, we loved each one of these.
Yes, we were fond of CRANLEIGH, in days when skies were bright
We little thought of warfare, of air-raid noise and fright.
The days of peace have vanished, the quiet calm has gone;
The fight for truth and freedom relentlessly goes on;
But yet we still love CRANLEIGH, although its grassy banks,
May on them bear the impress of lorries or of tanks.
Nights are no longer quiet, the sirens wail and moan;
Above, the hostile aircraft move with a heavy drone,
And ‘tho we still love CRANLEIGH, we often with a sigh
This turmoil curse, and wish for those peaceful days gone by.
Remember then, this Christmas, the hills and meadows green,
For VICTORY is coming, and with it peace serene,
And soon this charming CRANLEIGH again will find its grace,
Its restfulness and quiet, a pleasant, tranquil place.
