Beside the Farndon road. Beneath a ridge and furrowed field.
Deep inside each mound and dip, it’s history is concealed.
What manner of man toiled in vain, to keep his family fed.
How many ridges did one man work, to make his daily bread.
Aside this ridge and furrowed field lies an ancient river shore.
The Cherwell now reveals the banks, where water flows no more.
Once mighty in its quest it cut a path so wide and vast.
Its waters quenched the thirsty seeds that our ancient farmer cast.
This ridge and furrowed field, stands as testament for all time.
Baring witness to a history, that is both yours and mine.
Look over this ridge and furrowed field, next time you pass this way.
Marvel at its history where now spring lambs will play.
© Peter Coleman, 2014