Going home

Nearly time for supper
I smell it in the air
pans and table-spoons
sizzling fat, corks
cider, beer and Pino Noir
all the way from Chile.
I am to home tomorrow
Did I turn off the tap?
think I did, one never knows
It won't be the first,
at least I have the keys.
I've had a smashing time
the weather has been good
14 days of sun, no rain.
Went to John Clare's cottage
listened to a poet
sat where Clare had lived
beside the Bluebell Inn.
Bought a book and had a chat
Helpston Lincolnshire
where he lived and drunked
wrote about his Mary
to die in Northampton
destitute and mad,
defending England's green
once free and pleasant land.