Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Here you will find the Poem The Road to Roundabout of poet Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Road to Roundabout

Some say that Guy of Warwick 
The man that killed the Cow, 
And brake the mighty Boar alive 
Beyond the bridge at Slough; 
Went up against a Loathly Worm 
That wasted all the Downs, 
And so the roads they twist and squirm 
(If a may be allowed the term) 
From the writhing of the stricken Worm 
That died in seven towns. 
I see no scientific proof 
That this idea is sound, 
And I should say they wound about 
To find the town of Roundabout, 
The merry town of Roundabout, 
That makes the world go round. 

Some say that Robin Goodfellow, 
Whose lantern lights the meads 
(To steal a phrase Sir Walter Scott 
In heaven no longer needs), 
Such dance around the trysting-place 
The moonstruck lover leads; 
Which superstition I should scout 
There is more faith in honest doubt 
(As Tennyson has pointed out) 
Than in those nasty creeds. 
But peace and righteousness (St John) 
In Roundabout can kiss, 
And since that's all that's found about 
The pleasant town of Roundabout, 
The roads they simply bound about 
To find out where it is. 

Some say that when Sir Lancelot 
Went forth to find the Grail, 
Grey Merlin wrinkled up the roads 
For hope that he would fail; 
All roads lead back to Lyonesse 
And Camelot in the Vale, 
I cannot yield assent to this 
Extravagant hypothesis, 
The plain, shrewd Briton will dismiss 
Such rumours (Daily Mail). 
But in the streets of Roundabout 
Are no such factions found, 
Or theories to expound about, 
Or roll upon the ground about, 
In the happy town of Roundabout, 
That makes the world go round.