Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode, <br />The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. <br />A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire, <br />And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire; <br />A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread <br />The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head. <br /> <br />I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire, <br />And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire; <br />But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed <br />To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made, <br />Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands, <br />The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands. <br /> <br />His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run <br />Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun? <br />The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which, <br />But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch. <br />God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear <br />The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier. <br /> <br />My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage, <br />Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age, <br />But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth, <br />And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death; <br />For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen, <br />Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.<br /><br />Gilbert Keith Chesterton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rolling-english-road/
