This article appeared in the Autumn 1971 (Issue #25) edition of the Kent Archaeological Review.
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The Kentish Archaeologist --
He must wield pick and shovel, use trowel and sweep, Till his muscles are aching and fingers are peeled, In a hundred square feet or a trench long and deep On the slope of a wind-swept and cold Kentish field. He must delve in the earth where in ages long sped Men wrought weapons of bronze or used tools knapped of flint, That once shook 'neath the conquering Roman's harsh tread, And where Briton and Saxon and Norman once went. He must not seek for treasure of silver nor gold But for fragments of pottery whence he may trace The story forgotten of those of old Built their homesteads, and worshipped, and died, in that place. What's amiss, be his labours with ill-success crowned? For the loss of his time he will be well repaid -- For merely in seeking is joy to be found, And there's many a new comradeship to be made.