Simon Longhurst

In Sussex green, where valleys dream, beneath the June-blue sky,
The village wakes with joyful heart, as banners lift on high.
For Robertsbridge, eight centuries, of stories deep and wide—
Now calls its folk and guests alike, to stand in village pride.

From Salehurst church, chime the bells, to mark this grand affair,
Where history walks the recreation ground and memory stirs the air.
The Scouts raise flags, the Legion stands, with honour in their line,
And St Mary’s opens heart and door, in fellowship divine.

The George Inn taps their casks of ale, the beer tent brims with cheer,
While Bonfire folk fan coals to life, with BBQ held dear.
The Women’s Institute serves tea, on lace and china set,
With Edwardian grace and dainty cakes no soul could e’er forget.

The scent of spice—those Indian snacks—drifts warmly on the breeze,
As laughter rings and children dance beneath the willow trees.
A parade of knights and kings and queens, in velvet, lace, and thread,
With farmers and hop pickers, in histories they tread.

Therapy goats, with gentle eyes, bring calm with every bleat,
And classic cars and engines steam to this wonderful village treat.
Their polished brass and engines proud, a moving tale to tell,
Of hands that built, and wheels that turned, where once the blacksmiths dwell.

Then watch the Royal Houses race, where grown-ups leap and fall,
Through Tudor hoops and Stuart jumps, it's glory, pride, and gall!
As music floats from centre stage, and feet begin to sway,
With fiddles, choirs, and drumming hearts that carry us away.

Robertsbridge 800

A poem written by Simon, organiser of Robertsbridge 800, to commemorate the occasion

Robertsbridge 800 Writing Competition - with prizes to be won: