My roots lie deep in Carleton soil,
A green field once was I,
But men began to plot and plan,
My land to occupy.
The diggers turned me upside down,
And laid my fences low,
So sad indeed was I to find,
My green grass had to go.
But when in time the plan took shape,
More reconciled I grew,
I had become a building site,
And people came to view.
They praised the houses being built,
They liked the Cul de Sac,
And privacy of living near,
But off the beaten track.
Soon all the houses planned were sold,
As buyers wisely chose,
By then, I had been given a name,
They called me ‘Windsor Close.’
Each house as it became complete,
Was quickly occupied,
I welcomed every family,
With love and joy and pride.
So busy were they in their homes,
And outside they spent hours,
They gave me back my green, green grass,
And planted trees and flowers.
But best of all upon my land,
Now happy children play,
Their laughter, music on the air,
In joyous roundelay.
My roots lie deep in Carleton soil,
A green field once was I,
But now – my destiny fulfilled,
Just Windsor Close am I.
Written in 1973.
Copyright Doris Darbyshire