THE KEEPER
Steve Knightley

In Devonshire I was a keeper
Half my life I lived outdoors
Using skill my father taught me
In land that edged the open moors

I'd cut the snares of any poacher
Rising hours before the dawn
I'd guard the nests, planted cover
Then drove the birds towards the guns

I fought in France with half the county
Using skill I learnt at home
I planted traps, laid the wire
The earth grew red as Devon's own

July the 1st, 1916
We early rose, passed round the rum
The whistle blew and we broke cover
Then walked in line towards the guns
We walked towards the waiting guns

Back on the land we hire beaters
And when the Glorious 12th has come
We stand in line, we wait in silence
Then walk once more towards the guns

"Jackie boy?"
"Master"
"Sing you well?"
"Very well"
"Hey down, ho down, derry derry down,
Among the leaves so green-o..."

Graham.