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Charles Fairey
This poem is about the history of the Church of Barthomley. The Church has a colourful past. I chose these subjects because I like local history and live between both locations.
The Church Of The Massacre – The History
The Church of Barthomley in South Cheshire,
The County famous for its towns of brine,
Built upon Barrow Hill and dedicated to its princely sire,
An 8th Century Saint and his miracle, the hermit, St Bertoline.
An ancient burial ground before a building,
In Saxon times, a timber chapel before it became stone,
Under the Normans in 1090, upon the hill in Bertemleu’s clearing,
And a little known Saint, dedicated to one of God’s homes.
The Church was rebuilt in the 15th Century,
Yet a Norman arch was saved, rebuilt into the north wall,
The Tower, late 15th, square and sturdy,
Throughout the ages many alteration, but still the bells did call.
Worshippers from the townships of Crewe, Balterley,
Alsager and Haslington, sat in the congregation,
Within this sandstone fortress in the quaint village of Barthomley,
From the Dark Ages to today, surviving the Reformation.
Gargoyles to scare off evil ghouls,
And coats of arms of charitable families recorded,
The decoration and stone carvings, at the hands of the mason’s tools,
As all the Church’s history is forever painted.
The Praer, Fulleshurst and the Crewe Families,
Notable nobles of their time, helped by others,
Look after the Church, and keep their solemn ties
To worship there, and marry their lovers.
From baptism to the cold hands of death,
The Church has seen many through its beckoning doors,
Given a name and blessing, marriage, and burial, after their dying breath,
Brewing ales for its folk, and helping them adhere to the Laws.
The Church, sanctuary to its folk,
Once blood-soaked by unholy men, in the English Civil War,
The Church of the Massacre, its people broke,
When Royalists attacked the locals, and killed, but the Church saw.
Every Christmas since 1643, on its Eve,
The terror of that day, recorded as the bell ringers heave,
To call upon its friends to come inside and thank God for life,
To worship Him that doth save, inside the sanctuary of its knave.
The Churchyard and its ancient Yews,
The Sandstone House of Our Lord,
Its congregation worshipping from its Oaken Pews,
Forever more may this Church be adored!
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