Doris Darbyshire

The Lady of the Grove

So came we to South Wales,
J.D. Francis and I.
To the village of Three Crosses,
The Aerodrome close by.

We are again together,
After months of separation,
With a posting new at ‘Fairwood,’
And good accomodation.

Yet it was with some misgiving,
That we travelled from our home,
By the War our lives disrupted,
We had again strange paths to roam.

But we need not have worried,
As through country lanes we drove,
We received a lovely welcome,
From ‘The Lady Of The Grove.’

She was so warm and friendly,
To her we were behove.
And grateful for the lodging,
With ‘The Lady Of The Grove.’

Soon, another greeting,
As, his fingers interwove,
In strong and sincere handclasp,
From ‘The Master Of The Grove.’

Then we met their sons and daughters,
Who all received us well.
We settled down quite happily,
Within their walls to dwell.

They shared with us their produce,
Which in their garden grew,
And in our turn, a new laid egg,
Was kindly given too.

Our rations so augmented,
Relief from catering stress,
At home it had been hard to cope,
But now, the strain was less.

We brought with us our ration books,
But did not have to queue,
No trouble at the village shop,
To buy what was our due.

Accepted at the village school,
Francis daily went.
He made friends with the children,
And soon copied their accent.

At Fairwood, J.D. held the post,
of ‘Squadron Adjutant.’
He did it well, and soon became,
The ‘C.O.’s’ confidante.

For myself, life took a turn,
I lived as ne’er before.
Ease in the home, and out at night,
To functions, more and more.

There were concerts at the Aerodrome,
And parties in the ‘Mess.’
We met the local ‘gentry,’
And made visits as their guests.

All this was fun, but tiring,
As with social life I strove.
And I could not have managed,
Without ‘The Lady Of The Grove.’

She put our son to bed at night,
Gave him breakfast in the morining.
When, from some jaunt we’d not returned,
Long past the hours of dawning.

Thus passed the gay time of my life,
Now, in memory’s ‘Treasure Trove.’
Which never could have been,
Without ‘The Lady Of The Grove.’

And so to her I’ll always be,
Beholden and behove.
And thankful to the The ‘Lady,’
and ‘The Master Of The Grove.’

Notes on this poem

Written in 1986.