THIS POEM IS NOT PRESENTED AS I INTENDED (ie. DOUBLE SPACED).
THIS HAS BEEN DONE BY PERSONS BEYOND MY CONTROL
THUS DIMINISHING THE READING EXPERIENCE.
🙈
MELTHAM\'S REVERENT SON
(The Ballad of a Yorkshire Lad)
Away on Yorkshire\'s bounds,
Within the Pennine Hills,
A piece between the valleys and the rivers;
Obscure in Yorkshire\'s grounds
With ghosts of ancient mills,
In every way the ambience delivers.
To live there as a child
Amidst the moors and woods,
To thrive within a place where nature nurture\'s;
To learn Natura\'s truth
And be thankful for her goods,
To worship in the many parish churches.
To sing beside the choir
With family and friends,
To be there and be stronger than the test;
To range within the flock
And then wind back the clock
And envisage how your bygone days were blessed.
To win your daily crust
As you traverse through your story,
Governed by so many salient factors;
To bestow your family\'s trust
In a place of craftsman\'s glory
Applying special skills creating tractors.
But the die of life was cast
As often is the case,
The font of man\'s employment peeled it\'s knell;
The good days did not last ~
Disappeared without a trace,
The tolling of the futile, closing bell.
Though from the ashes of the past
A reflection will remain,
To celebrate the gemstone in the hills;
A time when you can now, at last,
Poignant thoughts retain,
Everything that anamnesis instils.
ASJ