The Surveyor’s Lament (Anon)

They send you out in heat-waves

with theodolite and chain.

You carry on in blizzards

and driving moorland rain.

With clino and plane-table

you find where contours go.

Try looking for a contour

under a foot of Yorkshire snow!

So at the gates of Heaven

to St. Peter you will tell

“I’m an Apprentice, Sir, from Pennypot

and I’ve served my time in Hell.”

This must have been written by an R.E. Survey apprentice in 1952 or 1953.

Does anyone know his name?

With thanks to  Trevor "Bill" Powell for this contribution
Any comments  to
mailto:webmaster@survey-branch-rea.co.uk