A
miller’s son from East Budleigh
Did
wish his family ‘Au revoir!
I’m off
to find America.’
In
London town he’d learnt his trade:
As
salter he had made the grade.
Now
Roger Conant was his name;
We
think he needs a bit more fame.
His
wife called Sarah joined the ship
With baby
Caleb on the trip.
They sailed
across the ocean deep.
I don’t
suppose they had much sleep.
And
finally at Plymouth Bay,
Where previous
Pilgrims showed the way,
The
Conant family came ashore.
The
year was sixteen twenty-four.
Now
Roger’s skill was salting fish
To make
a palatable dish.
For
just in case you have forgotten,
No fridges
meant your food went rotten.
Just
north of Plymouth is Cape Ann.
In
Dorchester they had a plan
To make
the place a fishing port
And
maybe even build a fort.
And
Roger was named supervisor.
People
said ‘There is none wiser!’
It was
indeed a job promotion,
With
splendid outlook on the ocean.
A major
problem did occur,
For
Plymouth’s Pilgrims furious were.
Their Captain
Standish did arrive.
The
year was sixteen twenty-five.
This
man was noted for his ire.
‘Be
gone!’ he said. ‘I’ll open fire!
That fishing
stage is ours by right.
We will
not hesitate to fight!’
The
fishermen denied access.
It
could have been a bloody mess.
But
Roger Conant saved the day.
His
wise words halted the affray.
Conciliation
in his view
Was
always better than a stew.
Diplomacy,
a path to peace,
Will
cause all stupid wars to cease.
In Massachusetts
he’s renowned,
For this
Devonian did found
A city where
his statue’s fame
Does almost
match the city’s name.
This
local hero, worthy chap,
Deserves,
we feel, a special clap.
These
verses surely do attest:
‘Peacemakers
are most truly blest.’
With apologies to Gloucester historian Mary Ellen Lepionka for allowing artistic license to win over historical accuracy!
The photo shows the commemorative plaque in Gloucester, Massachusetts, which records the historic event
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