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TOGETHER

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(A couple of years ago I had the honour to be invited to co-write the school song for our village school. The recording is of the children singing it at one of their concerts.  There is something selfishly flattering about hearing something you've created being performed by others).

 

On mornings when I feel so blue

and my spirits saddened

I join with all my friends at school

where my heart is gladdened;

Come and join us, you will see

Each day here in Haddlesey

Our teachers, friends and me -

We sing together.  We sing together.  We sing together.  We sing together.

 

 I Listen, learn, I play and sing

both at my desk and in the Hall;

Through Autumn, Winter and through Spring

happy days enjoyed by all;

We older help the young,

The small helped by the strong

We know we all belong -

We learn together.  We learn together.  We learn together.  We learn together.

 

I count my blessings every day

that life has been so kind

For those less fortunate I pray

that comfort they may find;

For those worse off than me

That children all could be

With us in Haddlesey

At one together.  At one together.  At one together.  At one together.

🌷(2)

◄ IT'S LOUSY ROTTEN CHRISTMAS TIME AGAIN

GOD BLESS YE MERRIE BREXIT MEN ►

Comments

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John Coopey

Tue 5th Dec 2017 09:14

Thanks, MC. Both my kids went to the school and, as a lay educationalist and parent, I would gauge that the school provided a better education for them as children than ever high school or university did.

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M.C. Newberry

Tue 5th Dec 2017 02:08

There's something magical about young children's voices
in enthusiastic song. The great Tin Pan Alley songwriter
Irving Caesar wrote a series of songs to teach children
the importance of being clean and tidy and, whilst he was
resistant to the idea initially, was later to consider the
assignment one of his proudest and most rewarding
accomplishments. You are in good company, JC.
One of my own favourite "school songs" was written for
"Goodbye Mr Chips" by Richard Addinsell. It never fails to
evoke that distant world of young voices in age-old
cloisters and the thump of bat on ball across a sun-dappled cricket pitch.

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