While out riding on a trusty steed
An accident cut short his life
He left the horses saddle
And also the life of his wife

So folk from all the towns around
Got together a substantial collection
And the sculptor Thomas Duckett said
"A fine man I will build to perfection"

So two years after Robert Peels death
On whit Monday to be precise
Everyone gathered around Winckley Square
Could not miss this at any price

Thomas Monk the, then Mayor of Preston
Was given the job to unveil
A statue by sculptor Tom Duckett
One of Preston's outstanding young males

The crowd that gathered together that day
Were impressed and pleased that they went
The former Prime Minister looked great in stone
And the money subscribed was well spent

Thomas Duckett a native of Preston
Apprenticed his trade in Lancaster
Then Liverpool called and then Kendal
Until a mallet and chisel he did master

But before his return from Kendal
His wife gave birth to a son
So they chose to give him his fathers name
And stuck junior on the end just for fun

Junior followed in his great fathers footsteps
Then he married a young girl called Lizzie
They sailed off to Rome to develop his art
For two years he became rather busy

As their Italian stay neared to an end
Their daughter Lucy was born
But happiness soon turned to sadness
Junior Duckett was looking well worn

Jake Jackson

So doctors advised a warm climate
Made him leave his daughter and wife
He sailed to kangaroo country
To start an Australian life

He eventually settled in Sydney
And soon made a name for himself
Then he heard his wife had died premature
Which did nothing to improve his health

He died at the age of twenty-nine
In the year eighteen sixty eight
He was buried in a place called Haslam Creek
But weeks before, what passed through the gates?

His last work was to chisel four angels
For the cemetery in which he now lies
They were finished and put into place
Just before junior Ducketts demise

Thomas Duckett the senior meanwhile
Continued to work on for a decade
Thought a long term illness had taken its toll
And his life was beginning to fade

In February eighteen seventy eight
At the age of seventy four
He put down his mallet and chisel
And knocked upon our dear lords door

Oh I almost forgot to inform you
Of a man at the start of out tale
Thomas Monks the once Mayor of Preston
Went to trail and ended in jail

What was his crime you now ask
Well by the use of a pen or a quill
He tried to fatten his wallet
By blatantly forging a will

Now his name appeared on the statue
One which the law found as unjust
A criminal name you can't link with fame
So they chiselled it off into dust