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Photos

The Moors Musician

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Written August 2023
His tuba points heavenward with melodies 
Waking worms and ducks tucked in for the night,
Rousing shepherds, watching flocks on a silent night,
Who wake to hear angels singing Gloria in Excelsis
Until they leave us on the moor, alone with the soloist,
Whose brass-band tunes have enchanted so many
For just on ten decades with lines and spaces,
Melodies and harmonies that go up and down 
Through winter and summer, in rain or snow
From Yorkshire to London and around the world. 
 
So we join in singing Happy Birthday to George
And wish him very many happy returns 
To Ilkley Moor, or anywhere else he chooses 
To make the music he enjoys. We'll be there!
 
For George Whittingham's 97th Birthday Concert. 
26 August 2023. 

Inspired by the unofficial Yorkshire anthem On Ilkley Moor with the tune  Cranbrook, originally used to accompany the carol While Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night. 

A Translation of  On Ilkla Moor Baht 'at
 

Where have you been since I last saw you, last saw you?

On Ilkley Moor without a hat

Where have you been since I last saw you, last saw you?

Where have you been since I last saw you?

On Ilkley Moor without a hat

On Ilkley Moor without a hat

On Ilkley Moor without a hat

You have been courting Mary Jane

You are bound to catch your death of cold

Then we will have to bury you

Then the worms will come and eat you up

Then the ducks will come and eat up the worms

Then we will go and eat up the ducks

Then we will have eaten you

That's where we get our own back.

 

The End

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Written July 2023
It's been a busy life seeing the world from above,
Finding the way across continents,
Diving and gliding above a Swiss meadow,
Swirling and twirling over African surf,
Facing the twists and turns of Indian thermals,
Enjoying the excitement of new life in Britain.
 
But then life takes its toll and he's at the end of his tether,
Tugging even harder, until there's a spin into disaster
And we end up in a bird's nest of entanglement,
With energy consumed in attempted repair, 
Hoping it will fly again in tomorrow's breeze.
But he surrenders to the inevitable, 
As the kite is consigned to its fate,
But with memories and pictures of the past.
 
Bembridge 
July 2023. 
 
 

Together

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Written May 2023
They arrive with double bass and amplified sax, 
And get going with finger clicks and drumming beats,
Then one plucks the strings while another adjusts his reed
For the overture.
 
Grabbing the mike, stiletto heels adding a rhythm,
Waiting her turn to sing a melody once known,
Now hardly recognised amid the organised noise
With her solo.
 
Until the band takes over with spontaneous variations,
Slurred cadenzas and half notes, descending 
Into syncopated discords that offend the ear
But tap the toe.
 
Each goes their own way, everyone for himself,
Leaving me behind in this music of doas-you-please, 
Until they unite in concluding discord and final flourish 
With torrential applause.
 
May 2023
 
After attending the annual Jazz Concert 

The Tortoise

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Written May 2023
The world's slowest coach on a go-slow, almost on strike
As he dawdles over decisions, unable to make up his mind,
Allowing it to daydream down lonely paths of nothingness,
While he fills up on food, silently savouring every mouthful,
Munching and crunching away, listening to the chew,
Making it last a long time until it passes down,
Naming them as it passes - larynx, pharynx, epiglottis,  
Into the gurgling cauldron below, giving him time to think
Or read, even if that's slow, at fifteen minutes a page,
While the TV leaps around, weaving confusion,
Leaving him wondering where he fits into a hasty world
Willing to leave him behind unless he hurries up.
Though he's content to keep to himself, silently musing,
Even tempted to withdraw and hibernate,  he carries on.
 
May 2023 
 

Every Voice Matters

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Written January 2021
Odd man out is there,
Crying in the wilderness;
Not quite in tune,
Definitely out of step with the times;
Tonic solfa with musty dough
When it should be lines and spaces;
Bass when others want a tenor,
Sacred when secular's preferred.
Enriched by Zulu and Armenian,
Swiss German or Geneva's French
In a rich repertoire of song
Where to him every voice matters,
Till the final note ends in silence.
After all, this is the wilderness.
 
January 2021. 
 

More Articles...

  1. Somewhere at the Back
  2. Making Peace in a Violent World
  3. On the Street
  4. Dust and Ashes

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