11 APRIL 1952, Page 9

Anthony Crow Anthony Crow is home to his bed :

And the long long night of the village listens.

Anthony Crow and wife hold hands, As still as frost in the hedgerow glistens.

Anthony, Anthony, time you come home, Each sleepless crone in the village mutters. Pity you ever was gone to the war, Whisper the know-alls behind the shutters.

Look sharp and love her, Anthony Crow.

And maybe she'll soon get her mind off the other.

Plenty there be that's all in the know. Told your mother and told her mother.

Still as the midnight Anthony waits Holding her hand, the two of them dreaming Each of another that doesn't belong To the cold, cold room where the bare moon's gleaming.

JOHN PUDNEY.