Camperdown

The dignity of Camperdown Is not to be denied, Where Leura looks upon the town And that lush countryside And comfortable, stout and sleek, She wears the air of one who'd seek To mind her manners rather much, And cultivate the English touch. A haughty lady prone to row Her eyebrows, when the road Brings in some traveller whose ways Tend to offend her code. The robust life of modern towns Suits ill her verdant dells and downs. She is particular, aloof; As witness many a manor roof. 'Tis said that Leura, long ago, Belched flames up to the sky, And turbulently sought to throw Stones at the passers-by. And her rich ashes raining down, Bequeathed great wealth to Camperdown; But turbulence in youth begun, Is now taboo. It 'isn't done'. And Camperdown, of gracious mien, Brings joy to him who views The glamor of her peaceful scene And placid avenues; A proper town, that sets the pace, And sets the scene for civic grace. And will might many another town Adopt the air of Camperdown.