MY VILLAGE
We loved our dear old village,
So many years our home.
Still welcome never fails us. Whenever back we come. Its peaceful tidal river, The woodland, meadow, moor: They each recall a memory. Some treasured one of yore. Unrivalled charm that river; It seemed, a thing apart,” A moorland ramble, picnic, Scarce less such joy of heart. Whilst up aloft, smooth turning Some mill sails oft you’d trace. Behind, a red-roofed cottage. On round and solid base. We’d “Pits.” deep dug for raising The coprolites they found: In layers oft abundant, Far down below the ground. An animal excretion. As fossil shipped away: Then ground for fertiliser. Much used this time of day. But ere it left our village Carts moved it near the ”shore”, Where cleared by hand of gravel. of stone, and what not more. When washed with river water Twas duly put aboard The pretty red sailed barges. Our artists so adored. I’d almost shrink from watching Across that chasm deep. On narrow planks, men wheeling Their findings to the heap. The load then safely landed, How gaily back they run; A sight to turn one dizzy.
of fear those men had none, Despite some obvious danger, The casualties were few As far as memory serves me, No fatal one I knew Fond memory closely clings too Around thal House of Prayer, Since Father, Son and Grandson In turn had laboured there. No weather ever hindered The long walk to and fro. In stockinged feet we children Would trudge there through the snow. Those days too many families Would weekly tather there, Each had their seat and filled it. Their absence would be rare My village had no school there Before my father came He took swift steps to build one And here a scholared dame The weekly penny paid now. They lessons had in Scripture. “Three RS and simple lore. But older boys and men too He took himself in hand His week night hours of teaching Fulfilled a real demand As old men often told me How much to him they’d owe. Since they could read the Gospel. “Leastways jest bits, yer know.” O how we loved our old folk. So simple-hearted true: So generous in their giving. The best ave given to you. They’d joy in home and garden: In work, would take a pride. Their pleasures few, were real ones. They’d little crave beside
And aint it wholly wicked Ter look up in the sky? That’s right now for sparrows But men don’t oughter fly. Them says the world grows better. For one, I has mer doubt, Cos man, he’ve shut his Bible, He’d turn the Almighty out. So don’t hev eyes ter see He think hisself much wiser. Wot’s certain sure’s then endin’ Of all sech devilry.” Ah! much there I could echo. For O. ‘would seem to me We’re losing things of value, Which still should precious be. A simple faith, so child like, Today you seldom see. I think it brought God nearer Those days “Wot used ter be.”
BY GREAT AUNT GEORGINA WALLER
The farmers lent their wagons For outings to the sea. A further jaunt each year too To town and shops there’d be. They’d deck with flowers, the transport: Its pace was solemn slow In gala mood all singing. Whole families would go. The horses’ coats like satin Shone out in chestnut hue: Their manes and tails all braided, Tied up in red and blue. Such days was worry banished, With every fret and care, The working suit discarded For clothes of Sunday wear. A concert, various meetings, To winter night gave cheer. As time passed on the Flower Show Formed feature of the year. At Christmas long the Choir treal. With Sunday School combined. Exceeded in attraction. All kindred joys we’d find The memory of that evening Would linger through the year: Its happy recollection Made many a day less drear. Lives then were drab, laborious, With pleasures few I know. But yet they’d joys full measure In those they had, I Irow, They’ve passed such scenes, the people. Their quaint old sayings too. Which were so apt and telling I must give just a few **For sure Miss, we was poorest Them days wot used ter be. But there we was more happier, A deal more neighbourly. Ter day them’s all for pleasure It’s nought but rush about, Come work-a-day or Sunday, The whole year in and out.
