And here's the poem- written a while back- that goes with the pictures in the last post.
The big brick church was built by the boss.
He said “dear Mr Waterhouse,
Build me a church in the Ruskin taste
With patterned courses of coloured brick
And some gold mosaic.”
And when it was up
He called it after his wife’s name saint,
Elisabeth- Spelt just like that
With an s not a z- as you’d name a boat.
He said,“ My dear, do you recollect
How the light beat up from the Grand Canal
On our honeymoon?”
And the little devils-
Little devils blue, red and green-
Cavorted over his patterned floor
And whisked their tails and flashed their teeth
In pure delight at the pride of the man,
At the glory of his astonishing pride.
And what did he care? He was off to Scotland
To sit in his castle, or off to London
To sit on the government benches there.
And his mill-hands coped as best they could
With the antics of the little devils-
Little devils, blue, red and green-
Who danced in front of the chancel screen
And pulled rude faces behind the back
Of the boss’s clergyman when he preached.