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Dreadnought [song version]

Dreadnought

 

We crossed the Chantry Bridge

As the Calder boiled beneath

And a drifting, chilling mist

Hung heavy on the heath

We came from far and wide

Marching all together

To gather at Belle Vue

Despite the dank, inclement weather

 

There were grandfathers and fathers

There were mothers, daughters, sons

Hand in hand in heavy coats

As bitter cold caresse...

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wakefieldwakefield trinitynicknameheritagerugby leaguefanspast gamesdreadnoughts

Citizens

Citizens

 

The Bakers, the Millers, the watchmakers.

The clerics, the priests and the reeves.

The plougher of fields and the sower of seeds.

The bankers, the scoundrels, the thieves.

The farmers, the tailors, the shopkeepers.

The woman who sits home and weaves.

The godless, the hypocrites and sinners.

The bishop who prays and believes.

 

The innkeepers, drunks and ...

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wakefieldheritagemerrie cityfolklorenorthmenyorkshire

Mostly Welsh

I grew up in Wales

Around the Swansea docks

I walked beneath huge cargo ships

Held up with props and blocks

 

I was made in Wales

Around the southern ports

I watched the big ships dock

My family guessed my thoughts

 

I was mined in Wales

Near valleys black with slag

And closing pits and picket lines

With many a mine lodge flag

 

I was forged in Wales

...

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WalesWelshheritagelifeexperiencehistorySwanseaseafaringshipsmerchant navydocksportstravel

The Voice of a Quill, Now Silent



I am but the mottled bark
of a tree once firmly rooted,
peeled from its stately trunk

and within my hollow carapace
echoes an inert drumbeat
that keeps the cadence for
a march of ornate trappings

soon and sooner still, one day
this crepuscular orphelin song
resonant in its languid longing
shall surge with the rising tide

the sound of its condescencion
as i...

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heritagelegacyfarewellpoetpassingdeathdeceaseddemiseforgotten

In the Footsteps...

 

In the footsteps of our fathers

we took the restoration trail

through wooded hill and wetland

from Aspull through to Haigh

 

sucked up the coldness

of a late winter sun

reflected on

the stillness of it all

each sunken dead tree scrum

on mirrored flash

no whispering grass

all secrets to the grave

 

and in the distance stark reminder

...

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miningheritagelifelines

Fruits of the Narrow Seam

Close the coalhouse door, lad

There's bones inside

(Alex Glasgow)

 

Fruits of the Narrow Seam

frozen tears

on a mossy stone

beneath a sundial

which has swept out

one hundred and thirty seven

years' worth of days

since they were

carved

at Christmastide


When time stopped


and a mother wept

while in ignorance and vel...

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Heritage

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