The famous three of lasting fame changed the world and all its ways . .

There are hard times ahead in many a bleak house, it is said . .

Can we remember those we used to know?

Like the daisies, do we die never knowing what we miss?

Roy Plomley’s tones they haunt us still

Why do you hate yourself for doubting him?

When bat wings flap in ink-black night

In deep, dark earth that only worms do know

His face unwashed, unshaven too, his ragged coat around his knees

Slicing through the rain-filled night – Past Dronfield, Dore and Totley