Ferrymans Cottage, River Wye

Walking along the river, I came across this cottage, damp looking. Helping a local farmer round up his escaped calves, I learned its history. And this is what he told me.

Ferrymans Cottage

A white cottage sits, next to the bridge

Facing the river

Squat against the hill behind it

The house that housed the ferryman

His, wife, children, dog maybe

His job it was

To haul on the chain

Crossing and recrossing in all weathers

And when the river was low

There the bargees stopped

Glad of a rest

Surly weathered men

They stayed for days

Getting drunk in the pub

On the hill behind

They didn't mind waiting

Till the water rose again

And they could move on

Upriver, with their cargo

If I close my eyes I can peer

Through those dusty, dirty windows

Into the cottage

There is a fire roaring

And through the windows comes a smell of baking

Children play and a dog barks

Whenever the train whistles

Silent now, only a ghost train

Crosses the river

And disappears through the hill

Into the tunnel

Into the distance

Without a sound

Reviews

[alifeacoustic]

It's a lovely thought to wonder about a place and then be told it's history. I have often wondered what lonely uncared for buildings I see get that way and the story behind them. Wonderfully written, thank you for sharing. I really enjoyed this read.

[Christine]

Thanks alifeacoustic for your lovely review. I felt very lucky to have found this out. The river must have been a lot deeper in those days.