An American in England
Out on the road to Snodland, where the fields are green,
Passed a sign for Piddlehinton, wonder what it means,
Through the lanes of Shitterton, names that make you smile,
History in every mile, from here to the next isle.
Stopped by Wetwang village, with stories to be told,
Ancient words from Celtic, roots from days of old,
Roman roads to Dorking, where the legions walked,
Every name's a puzzle, in whispers they have talked.
What's really in a name? Just letters and some sounds,
But history and laughter, in these English towns,
From Celtic to the Romans, every footstep they have laid,
In each funny name, there's a story made.
Bishop's Itchington, in Warwickshire's embrace,
Latin roots in Eboracum, give York its grace,
Crackpot in the Dales, where the sheep still roam,
Names passed down through ages, carving out their home.
In a pub in Bache, where old tongues mix and clash,
Heard tales of Boggis Hole, where memories may flash,
Ancient Saxon whispers still call us by these names,
In towns like Blubberhouses, old spirits still remain.
What's really in a name? Just letters and some sounds,
But history and laughter, in these English towns,
From Celtic to the Romans, every footstep they have laid,
In each funny name, there's a story made.
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