Laila Liqourish

Well, the black robed friars grew the sweet root

At St Richards and St Johns in Pontefract

And the local folk called the black gold Spanish

After travelling monks who brought it back

It was used as a medicine to cure a wide range

Of ailments of the gut and of the lungs

And the only side effect of treating the diseased

Was the colour of their lips and t...

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Rhubarb, Rhubarb, Rhubarb

When I was very young it wasn’t very hard

You could find rhubarb in every back yard

A ruby red treasure growing from the ground

Worth its weight in gold and so easily found

Your mother would cook it and put it in a pie

But its very best use – and I tell no lie –

Was to dig it up and treat it like grapes upon the vine

By turning it by magic int...

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How Did It Get So Late So Soon?

The man who scared the ghosts away,

The woman who healed wounds with a kiss,

I think of them more nowadays

In sad and troubled times like this.

No longer there to hug the pain

From tired bones and broken hearts,

To shield you from the winter rain

That permeates where old age starts.

Another day of fleeting tasks

From rising su...

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Down In The Hole

My father said it was this life or the dole –

so sacrifice ambition, heart and soul

if our family was to earn a crust

then I would have to work until I was bust

Years of hardship finally took its toll

I had danced to the tune of Old King Coal

and I was laid off, let into the light

a blessing to escape eternal night

I was sixteen, they thre...

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Orgreave (Truth & Justice)

Standing on a picket line in 1984

Orgreave on a summer’s day, we all knew the score

I am just an honest man, I never broke the law

Until the law tried to break me and now I’m not so sure

Orgreave Truth and Justice

Will never go away

The coppers broke the law

So the coppers have to pay

In a court of British law

It’s time we had our ...

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Spinning Jenny

When times were hard old Reg Malone

Sent his daughters out to work

And they all went out diligently

Not being ones to shirk

Maria went to Hagenbach’s

And helped to bake the bread

While Jenny went to Albion Mills

To weave the worsted thread

She worked the uncombed worsted yarn

As swift and skilled as any

And those who knew her said of her

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The Blue Lady

This is the tale of Mary Bolles who lived at Heath Old Hall

And died there in 1662 and was buried ‘neath the soil.

But still her spirit walked Heath Grove the story has been writ

Until conjured down into a hole that’s still called Bolles Pit.

The spell was not so powerful to keep her there for long

And soon the tales were told of the sound of her plaintive song

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The Weeping Angel

She passed this way and tended to our pain,

administered our wounds and eased our fears

telling us that we would be home again.

stayed by our beds and whispered in our ears,

She was gentle, but never weak or frail,

Remember Nellie Spindler from Wakefield

the only woman killed at Passchendaele

An angel weeps for her in Flanders Field

Once...

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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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Cuttings

Here we go 'round the mulberry bush,

The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush.

Here we go 'round the mulberry bush,

On a cold and frosty morning morning.

They took a sprig from Hatfeild Hall

And planted it in Wakefield Gaol

A Mulberry bush grew on the spot

Its humble origins forgot

And there female prisoners exercised at night

Beneath the pale Yorkshire...

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Marketplace

This space is like a ghost town

Trestle tables row on row

Echoing with the hustle bustle

Vendors cries of long ago

I hold my mother’s hand

And listen to them shout

‘apples sixpence a pound

Come on get your money out!’

I went back there when I was home

All that was left were wooden frames

And rotting boards of each seller’s plot

The faint le...

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Wachefeld

Let’s start at the beginning

In a land of ice and snow

Where a brave band of armoured warriors

Set sail with sword and bow

To forge a new life far way

And settle in a land

Where the gods had promised riches

For each and every man

We sailed the mighty North Sea

And  by the grace of Odin’s beard

Landed safe in England

Where our kinsmen were ri...

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The Merrie City Serenade

Behind the market hall, riding the Ark

Hand in hand lovers strolling through the park

Carving their initials deep in the bark

on this Merrie City Serenade

Old men and teenagers sitting in The Chance

Ian and Peter refusing to dance

Across the mighty Rafters dance floor expanse

to the Merry City Serenade

On Cannonball hill beneath a ...

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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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