St. Mary's Church, Steeple Bumpstead
I am reminded by Ian Robinson of a poem that very aptly fits this photo:
Once Steeple Bumpstead had a Steeple
Beloved by all the village people,
It was so fine and tall and stately
No wonder they admired it greatly.
But long ago an angry wizard
Blew Steeple Bumpstead folk a blizzard,
And suddenly the dust went dancing
And hayricks in the field went prancing.
The wind set windmills sails a-whirling,
And pots and pans and plates a-twirling;
It struck the folk and made them scatter.
It beat the village eggs to batter;
It caught the farmer's wife so busy
And round she went till she was dizzy.
It blew the thrifty, mean and lazy
Till one and all were nearly crazy,
And one and all, both dull and clever,
Cried 'howls a-mercy, well I never',
And poked their puzzled anxious faces
From queer and unexpected places.
But in a wink the storm departed
Far quicker that it even started,
And everyone came out and wondered
And stood awhile and looked and pondered;
Then suddenly cried all the people
'Oh, Steeple Bumpstead, where's your steeple?'
The Steeple once so tall and splendid
A heap of rubbish had descended;
Its weather-cock so bright of feather
Had flown the country altogether
And left the place no means of knowing
Whatever way the wind was blowing.
And tales were told and heads were shaken
To see a village so forsaken
And all because an angry wizard,
Blew Steeple Bumpstead folk a blizzard.
By Elizabeth Fleming