The sun rose bright over Tambury Fayre.
Fair maidens a-mingled excitedly there.
Their faces blushed red at the glances of beaus.
Bows, ribbons and flowers for sale in rows.
Rose Hilary Knight wandered far from the scene.
Seen last on the rides, now no clue, not a bean.
Been looking for Rose, searching all the day through.
Threw everyone into it, villagers too.
To find her alive not an inch could be missed.
Mist was descending, they all wondered whether
weather would stop them from finding poor Rose.
Rows of them scoured until a loud roar.
Raw triumph erupted. Two lovers were there.
‘They’re here!’ cried a searcher, ‘rolling in hay’.
‘Hey, Rose Hilary Knight, you’re in trouble today’.
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