The Rodborough Fields Beggar's Curse Suspended

If you build on this field,

Springs will o’er-turn your water table,

Peasants will harrow your dreams,

Cut ridges in your anxious brow.

If you build upon this field,

Weavers will riot in the night,

Stretch nightmares on tenterhooks,

Turn your eyes Stroud Scarlet.

If you build upon this field,

The Frome will burst its banks,

Flood your conscience with remorse,

Leaching stains of turbid regret.

If you build upon this field,

Grass will grow in your pockets,

Celandine in your bank vaults,

Weeds in your account books.

But if we stop you building on this field,

Then money will rain upon your garden,

Goodness will grow within your heart,

And generosity in your soul.