This is a poem my mum's sister wrote to her recently, about their father Jack Hughes, who was a Gamekeeper to Sir Henry Tate (of Tate and Lyle sugar)
Jack Hughes loved his job, it was his life.
Out in all weathers. Snow, Rain, Wind, Frost.
He never tired of it. Not like Hannah his poor wife.
He knew every path, every ride, he never got lost.
His favourite time was Spring when his leafy Haven changed.
Magic carpets of Bluebells and Primroses pushed through the Earth, together.
Each clearing and dell colourfully rearranged.
Proving to all. Nature will carry on whatever.
Jack always said, of all the wild crops he protected from townies intent to steal.
Were his secret places of hidden Snowdrops. That to no man would he ever reveal.
No not even to us!
By Jacky Flavell nee Hughes
