Set as it is in the heart of the fens,
The land is flat; no hills or glens
Make up the country which surrounds
The Church
of St. Botolph
To thirteen o nine as the old records say;
But there was a church on the site long before,
Possibly dating from six fifty-four.
It's like a cathedral, reflecting the past,
When revenues earned
in the town were quite vast.
The Guild of Saint Mary was once very rich,
So they could afford a vast building in which
They worshipped and socialised up to the time
When Henry said being in a Guild was a crime;
It then changed its usage, became the Town Hall,
It's now a museum, where children can learn
About Boston 's
past and its history discern.
It once was a port and a major one too,
It's Customs House taking all tax that was due.
On goods which passed into or out of the town;
The wealth of its merchants was Boston 's renown.
The market is packed out with dozens of stalls,
With goods that range widely, from foodstuffs to shawls.
Wednesdays and Saturdays they are all there,
Taking up most of the large market square.
The river flows peacefully right through the town,
With clear, sparkling water, not muddy or brown.
Families from Boston
sailed over the sea,
To live in a land where they hoped they'd be free,
To practise their faith in the way they thought right,
Feeling the future would there be more bright.
A plaque in the churchyard remembers just twelve
Of the people back then who decided to shelve
Their life in this country: and take the long trip
Aboard "Arabella" - the name of the ship.
Named for the town from which many were fleeing.
The Vicar of Boston ,
John Cotton by name
Was also an emigrant; he felt the same.
The Maud Foster Mill is still working today,
Producing its flour the traditional way;
It's open for people to see how it's done,
And after their visit can then have the fun
When they come down after touring the tower
Of buying the products produced from the flour.
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