By Langley Bush I roam, but the bush hath left its hill,
On Cowper Green I stray, tis a desert strange and chill,
And the spreading Lea Close oak, ere decay had penned its will,
To the axe of the spoiler and self-interest fell a prey,
And Crossberry Way and old Round Oak's narrow lane
With its hollow trees like pulpits I shall never see again.
Enclosure like a Buonaparte let not a thing remain,
It levelled every bush and tree and levelled every hill
And hung the moles for traitors -- though the brook is running still
It runs a sicker brook, cold and chill.
MP IV 130
All that is left of Langley Bush in 2016... a bump in a field, surmounted by a hawthorn tree planted by the Clare Society 20 years ago.
A notice on the gate says this:
‘The Langley Bush is situated on private land. Permission to visit the mound should be sought from Fitzwilliam Farm (Milton Estates)’.