Tracks

I wrote this poem for the Millennium celebrations held in Poulton le Fylde.  Many of the Dead  Good poets  came along and read their poems to a huge crowd,  The poetry was all included in an anthology called Pelts to Petticoats.  The poem is written in my attempt at Lancashire dialect and I also set it to music, hence the chorus notation.

Rollin’ back the Railway

Before ‘em village walks were ‘ere,
Before your days and mine.
Before the Blackpool railway brought
Wakes-weekers down ‘t line,
When Poulton was a boom town
fer market trading folk,
Wi’ streets lined wi’ thatched cottages
that all went up in smoke,
The longhouses they lived in
had nowt but earthen floor,
And saying, “Put ’t wood in ‘th hole”,
Meant ‘kindly close the door’.
They slept up in the attic
on rough matting for a bed’
under coverlets of dogswarn,
wi’ a log under their head.
 
We’re rollin’ back the railway,
Rollin’ back the line,
Delvin’ into ‘t history
Of Poulton’s earlier time.
 
John Garlick wi' 'is brood o' ten
earned only ten an' six,
pickin' t'landlord's crops
at harvest time an' gatherin' sticks,
to keep a warm fire in the grate,
to stop 'em getting crook.
They knew as sure as eggs is eggs,
that where there's brass there's muck.
Henry de Haydock owned
t'stately Cottam Hall,
MP elect for Preston
and the local voice for all.
The estate ran down and playing fields
lie in its place today
wi' a bonfire lit to celebrate
on every Guy Fawkes day.

Chorus

Back in t'day of Domesday,
Harold's army had to yield,
and t'land was strong with Saxon folk,
they called this land "the field"
'cause from the top of Bleasdale Fell
the whole of it was flat,
windmills stand as testament
that oats an' wheat grew fat,
But when the penny post came in,
the letters went astray
and so "le Fylde" was added on
and remains unto this day.
It gives a certain elegance,
that Windsor Woollies knew
would help them sell their knitwear
to the nation's well-to-do.

Chorus

And here we are a-revelling
inside the old Town Hall,
the Thatched House tavern still
on't tother side o' St Chad's wall,
the Golden Ball, Tom Lockwood
kept "best landlord of 'em all."
The Bull where tithes were gathered
and the gentry liked to call.
The stocks, the cross, and whippin' post
adorn the street outside,
the fish nab a reminder
of the creek we live beside,
that brought the flax 'n' spinning twine
that gave us industry,
an' sailcloth manufacture
and the low cross tannery.

Chorus

Join us here, enjoy a stroll,
roll back and take some time,
Poulton-le-Fylde's far more refined
than further down the line.
We've pretty shops and cafes
wi' charming vintage tea.
We've restaurants an' flowers
an' sights fer all of yer t'see.
The churchyard in t'springtime
is just beyond compare,
or stroll along the River Wyre
and find me sitting there.

Gorgeous isn't it?  Thanks for reading. Adele