I Survived in Grayshott

I've travelled over all this sceptred isle
From John o' Groats to Lands End, and the way's not
Notable for trouble or delay
Unless, that is, you're coming back through Grayshott.

When driving homeward, mile on solid mile
From Lord knows where, I find the thing I pray's not,
"Let there be no freezing rain today",
But, "Let there be no silly bods in Grayshott".

      Grayshott grew from gorse and heather,
      Snug by Hindhead and built for humanity;
      Yet it somehow altogether
      Lacks a sense of Highway Code sanity.

So stuck in jams or crawling single file
Through contraflows near Leeds, I know my day's not
Reached its nadir till I've joined the fray
To drive the last frustrating mile through Grayshott.

Then, safely home, in celebration I'll
Consume a calming toast; and though today's not
Likely to be famed in any other way,
To me it's something - I survived in Grayshott!

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