History of our church - Horfield - A poor little village in Glo'shire (In a 1747 Poem)
Originally published in a journal in London in 1747, and reprinted by the Bristol Evening Post in December 1972
PARSON GOLDNEY'S JOURNEY TO HORFIELD*:
with his farewell to it.
The clock struck eight, the morning clear'd,
The choc'late drank, the coach appear'd,
To Horfield bound; a dirty road.
A stomach sick, with hyppish load;
A jumbling coach, a grumbling wife,
With two friends more perplex'd in life.
At length arriv'd at Horfield-green,
No church-bell, heard, no mortal seen,
A place as wild, as cold, as bleak
As newfoundland or Derby-Peak;
A village void of bit or scrip
To stop the vicar's fretful hyp;
A church yard sod in watry swamp,
A puny church, a surplice damp;
The reading-desk extremely cold,
A pulpit dusty, weak and old;
A prayer-book of dull print letter,
A Bible rather worse than better;
A congregation very small.
Made but of a few poor souls in all
Three ancient dames with wither'd faces
Fell fast asleep in lower places;
Two grey-hair'd dons with glove on pate
Sat just above in nodding state.
One maiden fair with yellow knot,
the only primrose on the spot:
The rest were chiefly farmers' men
That star'd and list'ned now and then.
The beardful clerk that sings or says,
Who's poorly vers'd in musick-lays,
A psalm uprear'd in jangling notes,
Contriv'd for sol-fa's growling throats,
In broken tune, now in, now out,
'Twas all confus'd, like Babel's rout.
Then came the sermon, long and dull,
Adapted right to Clod-pate's skull.
Some snor'd, some gap'd, one sober lad
Beneath his arm a Bible had;
This book-learn'd youth had wit enough
To turn to doctor's scripture proof;
He double ddown the quoted place,
And sat demure with awkward face.
The sermon done, no dinner near,
A mile at least to cup and chear:
Church-warden hog not seen at church,
Left hungry parson in the lurch;
The weather chang'd to snow and sleet
Made chatt'ring teeth and chilly feet.
The youth look'd blue, the lady pale,
For want of something to regale.
Driving at length thro' miry ground,
We reach'd the Ostrich** on the down.
Where, glorious sight! by great good luck
Just as the stomach-hour had struck,
A loin of veal in lordly dish,
And kail and bacon, all I wish,
Allay'd the grumbling of the day,
And rais'd our spirits up to gay:
We there sat down content and snug,
With wine, and ale, and cyder mug:
Yea, cups of tea, the good wife's treat,
Appear'd to make the scene compleat.
Nature refresh'd in cheerful way,
We drank and pledg'd, and call'd to pay.
Then coachman wheel'd to Clifton*** round,
And brought us home all safe and sound.
Horfield, farewel; thou starving soil,
Not worth a preacher's charge and toil,
To ride thro' dirt, thro' cold, with hunger keen,
To teach sad swine on ignoramus green.
* A poor little village in Goucestershire, near Bristol.
** A Sign of a Publick House on the Down.
*** A pleasant village on an Eminence above the Hot-Well at Bristol
