One Albert Nash

44 years he had served
IMBER well
The village blacksmith
The happiest spell
He worked long and hard
And built up his trade
Serving the community
When the war Office laid

Their objections to
His village and that he leave
They wanted to train soldiers
And to achieve
A secret location
Which is what they did
And the village was vacated
In what was a bid

Just fifty souls there
So easy to say
You have to give up
What you’ve built
Go away
We need the homes for serviceman who
Are coming to help win the war
Yes for you

That was the story
And they had to go
Leave all their possessions
Go with the flow
Poor Albert Nash
His heart broken to leave
He died on his forge
He just couldn’t believe

What he had worked all his life for
Should now be lost
His wife Martha knew
Really what it had cost
On his death certificate
A broken heart
That’s what had Happened
He just could’t part

With his home and his business
How was it fair
Who were the War Office
Grey suits who dare
To come to a village
Steeped in history
And tell all its people
That they couldn’t be

Allowed to live where
They had put down their roots
Their obtuseness and oafishness
Clearly all brutes
Were heartless and moronic
To expect people to
Just get out of their homes
Whilst others could do

What they liked with their cottages
How was it fair
And they never came back
The WAR office declare
The village is theirs
IMBER will be
A place where we train
Our bold infantry

We must think of poor Albert
His soul no doubt will
Be out and about
Possibly still
What the War Office did
Was rigid and wrong
Unsentimental they didn’t belong
Insensate and callous
In so many ways
Shameless and brazen
All of their days

Ghosts of those
No doubt still wander the ways
The army demolished a lot
Just a phase
To get rid of the memories
But people’s thoughts
Are stronger than War Office’s
Rotten reports