Bredon Hill

Bredon Hill is a hill in the English county of Worcestershire, south-west of Evesham. It lies within the Cotswolds Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, and although geologically part of the Cotswold upland with its yellow oolitic limestone, the western escarpment of the Cotswolds has eroded eastwards several kilometres since its rock was laid down more than 100 million years ago from corals at the bottom of a warm sea. As a result, the hill now stands isolated in the Vale of Evesham.

On top of the hill are earthworks of an Iron Age fort, as well as a tower known as Parsons' Folly. The tower was built in the 18th century for Mr Parsons of Kemerton. The 981 feet natural height of the hill appears to have contributed to the building of the tower, whose top therefore reaches 1000 feet, in the same way as the tower on Leith Hill takes it from 968 feet to the magic four figures.

In addition to the Iron Age fort, there are Roman earthworks on the hill. There are also a number of standing stones: local legend tells that if you pass between the King and Queen Stone you will be cured of illness.

The area around the highest point is grassland with open public access under a DEFRA Countryside Stewardship scheme: as well as promoting access, it aims to manage the landscape to protect the archaeological features and protect wildlife such as the Violet Click Beetle.

A large number of public footpaths and bridleways cross the hill from the villages circling its base, and allow for a variety of circular routes to be devised. The Wychavon Way passes over the hill, but does not reach the summit.

The Ordnance Survey 1:50,000 map has for many years shown the top as 229 metres high. That this is a typographical error is obvious from the countours; the 1:25,000 map shows the spot height as 299 metres.

The hill is imortalised in poem 21 of A. E. Housman's A Shropshire Lad.

In summertime on Bredon

The bells they sound so clear;

Round both the shires they ring them

In steeples far and near,

A happy noise to hear.

Here of a Sunday morning

My love and I would lie,

And see the coloured counties,

And hear the larks so high

About us in the sky.

The bells would ring to call her

In valleys miles away;

"Come all to church, good people;

Good people come and pray."

But here my love would stay.

And I would turn and answer

Among the springing thyme,

"Oh, peal upon our wedding,

And we will hear the chime,

And come to church in time."

But when the snows at Christmas

On Bredon top were strown,

My love rose up so early

And stole out unbeknown

And went to church alone.

They tolled the one bell only,

Groom there was none to see,

The mourners followed after,

And so to church went she,

And would not wait for me.

The bells they sound on Bredon,

And still the steeples hum,

"Come all to church, good people."

O noisy bells, be dumb;

I hear you, I will come.