Tradition says that its earliest Celtic name was Pengwern, where a
British prince had his palace; but the town Scrobbesbyrig came into
existence under Offa's rule in Mercia, and with the Normans came Roger
de Montgomery, Shrewsbury's first Earl, and a castle and the stately
abbey of SS. Peter and Paul. A little later the town took to itself
walls, which were abundantly necessary on account of the constant
inroads of the wild Welsh.
For the barbican's massy and high,
Bloudie Jacke!
And the oak-door is heavy and brown;
And with iron it's plated and machicolated,
To pour boiling oil and lead down;
How you'd frown
Should a ladle-full fall on your crown!
The rock that it stands on is steep,
Bloudie Jacke!
To gain it one's forced for to creep;
The Portcullis is strong, and the Drawbridge is long,
And the water runs all round the Keep;
At a peep
You can see that the moat's very deep!
So rhymed the author of the _Ingoldsby Legends_, when in his "Legend
of Shropshire" he described the red stone fortress that towers over
the loop of the Severn enclosing the picturesque old town of
Shrewsbury. The castle, or rather its keep, for the outworks have
disappeared, has been modernized past antiquarian value now.
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