The vane on Hughley steeple 
Veers bright, a far-known sign, 
And there lie Hughley people 
And there lie friends of mine. 
Tall in their midst the tower 
Divides the shade and sun, 
And the clock strikes the hour 
And tells the time to none. 

To south the headstones cluster, 
The sunny mounds lie thick; 
The dead are more in muster 
At Hughley than the quick. 
North, for a soon-told number, 
Chill graves the sexton delves, 
And steeple-shadowed slumber 
The slayers of themselves. 

To north, to south, lie parted, 
With Hughley tower above, 
The kind, the single-hearted, 
The lads I used to love. 
And, south or north, 'tis only 
A choice of friends one knows, 
And I shall ne'er be lonely 
Asleep with these or those.