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"Pride of Place" by Jean
Hayes
A few miles south of Cambridge,
A little north of Ware,
A dot beside a river,
That's BUNTINGFORD, look- THERE!
A pit-stop on the highway
Where travellers filled their skins,
And coachmen swapped their horses
When half the shops were inns.
We haven't shrunk, like Puckeridge,
Or burgeoned, Hatfield-style.
Our shops are small and friendly,
Strangers receive a smile.
Once, we were well-connected,
By road and rail,at least,
Then, Beeching axed our railway,
And 'Green Line' buses ceased.
Since when,we're part of nowhere,
And yet, we're feeling great!
There's more to this old hamlet
Than maps can illustrate.
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