Smuggling?
I know there’s little evidence of smuggling in our county,
But let’s imagine there might have been communities,
Where customary right prevailed over the law …
Down there, on the Severn,
Where it meanders along,
Or down there, in those sequestered hamlets,
Running right down to the banks of the river…
Boats mooring up with contraband in the dead of night,
The secretion of the prize in cellars, barns, stables, woodland and tunnels …
Tobacco, tea, brandy, Geneva and wine
Passing along under the blind eye of the gentry …
The gentlemen and gentlewomen of the night …