Here's a poem by A Caddick a Yorkshireman. Maybe some have seen it before but for those that haven't
Brock by Arthur Caddick.
I was Brock the
Badger
Before the Saxons came,
Before the Romans landed
The Celts gave me my name.
Through centuries of baiting
By louts whose love was hating,
Through iron pincers gripping
The throat, and dogs' fangs dripping
Blood, enough of my ancient kind
Has death still, somehow, left behind.
I am Brock the
Badger,
I shrink from mankind's sight,
A sett my secret homestead,
My kingdom is the night.
And still I face new battle –
Where badly tended cattle
In wet and careless countries
Deny the farm free bounties,
Myself, untried, am judged to be
The cause of ills that kine give me.
I am Brock the
Badger,
They pump gas through my sett,
I came before the Romans –
I may outlast you yet
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