The Poems of William Chives

T'was told by older people, that the ironwork used therein,

Was found within this parish, as well as lots of tin.

T'was said by old parishoner, Ben Jenner was his name,

D'at all de iron dat's in the church, from "Stream" down yonder came.

I was likewise told by one old dame, late wife of Richard Hoad,

That all de iron in yonder Church, did come from Horeham Road.

Today folks call it Horham, but to me, t'is still the same,

T'is grafted in my memory, no matter what the name.

The local Village Peeler in years of long ago,

Like Village Smith, and Wheeler, told me all that they did know.

All tallied e'en to nigh a word, like story as of one,

They said, the Church's ironwork did from Lewes Foundery come.

The fact is this my gentle friend, it came from Lewes in the end,

"The Foundry".

Some may have come from Horham Road, a place now called "The Furnace Farm",

But the bulk was found round "Old Stream Mill", a place well known,

And one of charm.

Dear reader, can'st thou enlighten me, on history of these queries three.

The Church's council wish to know, then if thou can'st, please tell them so.

Do'st thou know ought about the Church, hast thou e'er heard its name,?

Late Rector said St. Mary's t'was, when I to Sussex came.

The records be the second thing, it seems, they ne'er was found,

But, I've strong feeling, they be near, and lay hidden underground.

Late Rector said they disappeared, he thought that he was right,

When "Place" was owned by Jefferies old, such truth may come to light.

Now, other thoughts doth fill my mind, The Jefferies "Deeds" folks ne'er could find.

Make those two items as but one, and if excavations e'er be done -

In subway from "The Place" to Church, the men that hunt may end

the search and bring them all to light. "Who knows".

Y'on hollow Ash is queery three, known now, nigh fifty years by me,

By Northern entrance gate it grows, it's history by-gone people knows,

Unable now to quote it.

Old "Wheeler" said in days of yore, that tree's a century old or more.

But I myself don't know it's age, t'was never seen in history's page.

Such note one longs to see.

When I was but a boy of twelve, one oft saw many a youngster delve -

to recover treasures hid therein, when time for lessons did begin,

In daily school hardby.

The Interior

Compiled on facts and Memories

In Rhythm, Prowse, and Rhyme

Composed by William Chives, An old Parishioner

1940-41

Come, - let us enter now inside,

Should thou so wish, I'll act as guide,

For lot's of interest lies therein.

Thou eager art? Then we'll begin.

First let us look at ancient porch,

Here's a tablet well worth noting,

And one coincidence on that -

To thee, I'll now be quoting.

In memory of a Vicar old, his name? The Reverend Herring.

He now has passed within the veil.

Then next but one, came Reverend Scale,

In perfect order.

My mind goes back in memory clear,

How he did fill my heart with fear,

He on his rounds to visit sick,

Would flourish high his walking stick,

As though to strike me.

"In memory of the late Reverend J. H Vidal."

One note of interest comes to hand,

He journeyed to the Holy Land;

Intent on there to end his days,

To preach and teach our Saviour's ways.

Vicar of Chiddingly from 1846 to 1875.

Come, - let us enter door within,

And voyage of discovery now begin.

Ah me, - how things has altered though,

I scarce would ever deemed tw'ere so.

The toves be gone by entrance doors,

And what has happened to the floors;

"What"? - Heating system underground,

A bad result, was what was found?

No small wonder, t'was in vain,

To disturb the vaults, where folks had lain

For centuries past.

The Font I see is by North door,

Where stove did stand in days of yore.

One point I state, if not mistaken,

That font was brought from yonder Heighton.

On Sussex Downs.

Some ancient Pews have been repaired,

Of stain and polish they are bared;

One wonders why.

But glad I be folks left the doors,

When putting in the present floors;

No

w let us wander round a-while

And note their alteration;

"See" - some be made to modern style,

To suit this generation, -

There be open space beneath the seat

Where folks may stretch their legs and feet,

That be one point to the good.

Now friend I think you will agree, -

That's if you've taste alike to me;

T'were best that when those there were bared,

The whole should have one colour shared.

For now, one sees, some dark, some light,

Which seems to me, ought else but right.

Or maybe I be wrong.

"Ah" - something fresh again I see

Some pews be gone that's clear to me;

"Alas" - and with them, yea, I be right,

The old Double-decker's lost to sight.

A parishioner old once said to me,

That double-decker once was three,

That's why the Pulpit was so high

And t'was brought, she said from Ardingly,

Within this county's bounds.

The lower part went years ago,

Which left just Reading-desk below,

That stood long years at pulpit's base,

But, t'is gone alas, for open space

To pulpit staircase there.

The Jacobean Pulpit we'll view from middle aisle,

It's shape, and sounding board above, be of good old-fashioned style;

They're both in shape sexangular, the first uncommon tall,

And speaker with a good clear voice, can be heard below by all.

The sounding-board above we see, when but a boy oft puzzled me,

For there be nought that one can spy,

To hold aloft that board so high.

To find the like, means lengthy run, for, o'er speakers head behold the sun.

But, - that grand old structure, - one of fame,

Today to me don't mean the same.

T'is lower than in days of old, it's colour too, stands out so bold,

Bounds out to meet one,

T'is sad to see the change that's made

The top and base be different shade.

See the former stripped to make it brighter,

But the base is new and somewhat lighter.

My friends, such things I grieve to see,

Or maybe all the fault's in me.

But be that e'er which way it will,

The love of tone be in me still;

For tone's a thing on which I ponder,

So why not match with pews o'er yonder

By organ there.

I credit give, where credit's due,

A colour light for all things new;

I beg forgiveness if I be bold,

But a deeper tone for all things old.

On that our time no more will waste

But this I ask where is folk's taste?

If they e'er had taste at all.

"Ah" The mem'ry of that reading-desk, with me doth still hang on,

It seems as but as yesterday, though many years be gone.

Since, when Rector, or appointed Priest, proceeding up the aisle,

When, on reaching of that reading-desk, would use it for a while.

There - all the opening prayers was said, for both the living and the dead.

Venite, - Psalms, - and Litany, - marriage banns, if chanced to be.

With all these duties done indeed, he, to lofty Pulpit would proceed.

Before we too, perform that feat, I'd make this history more complete.

The structure, square, did block the way, to pulpit as is known today.

For - when passing of that structure through, one mounted steps in number two.

I too did boast of panelled door, a seat, and kneeler on the floor;

While desk, with lessons read therefrom, to formost pew was built thereon.

The Rector preaching up above, the sight of which I used to love,

methinks me hear him sermon reading, though oft-times folks seemed scarcely heeding

His speech was never very clear, he spoke so fast, t'was hard to hear;

his Welshmans accent was so strong, which made his sermons dull and long.

One oft saw ladies gently prodding their better half who'd fell to nodding.

My friend it is not my intent

On criticism to be bent;

For that Welsh Rector though somewhat old,

He like his wife had heart of gold.