Turnip field

A beautiful, sunny, warm day, and the last of my annual leave days for 2012/13.
We did walk no. 16: Lambwoodhill Common and Brook Farm, and it was wonderful.
At the beginning we crossed a turnip field. Lots of them had been nibbled and half eaten by various animals, and Jim found the whole thing quite fascinating.
It reminded me of a song my father used to sing me when I was little:
Oh where be the blackbird, I don't know where he be
He be up in turnip field, and I be after he

It had to be sung in a country accent and The Worzels inevitably cashed in on it, calling the turnip field a wurzle tree. Apparently a wurzle tree doesn't exist, but a wurzle is a turnip by any other name.
Then there's also Worzel Gummidge of course...