Positivity thread
Re: Positivity thread
https://poetryarchive.org/poet/f-w-harvey/
Re: Positivity thread
Re: Positivity thread
A man there was, a gentle soul,
Of mild enquiring mind,
Who came into this neighbourhood
Its wonders for to find.
He sought for vines on Viney Hill,
He wondered much to find
The Drybrook were reverse of dry,
And so perplexed his mind
That as every man he'd chance to meet
He'd stop to question; and
Was answered courteously and fairly
By all within this land.
They told him who had put the lid
On Lydney; who the ale
Misspelt in Aylburton. And he
Delighted in the tale.
And still, like little Oliver,
He softly asked for more;
And with the utmost courtesy
Was answered as before.
Until one sleepy Summer's eve
He came all unaware
Unto a place called Ruardean,
And asked ‘Who killed the bear?'
Then men arose and knocked him flat;
Another punched his head,
And when the rest had done with him
Our gentle friend was dead.
The moral of this simple tale
Is plain. Dear friend, beware,
If you should visit Ruardean
Mention of any bear.
If you should climb to Yorkley Slad
Pause not to question why
They put a pig upon the wall
To see the band go by.
And if your feet so far should stray
As Dymock, lest some hurt
Befall you, make no mention of
The man without a shirt.
Nine lives have cats, and you but one:
Risk not that gift of God!
It's better to be ignorant
Than dead beneath the sod.
Note I've stitched this together from a number of online sources - most which oddly omit stanzas 2 and 3 - and Harvey's own (dialect) recording, so it may differ from versions you are familiar with.
Re: Positivity thread
Needed some positivity today.
Re: Positivity thread
Re: Positivity thread
Re: Positivity thread
I loved them, particularly loved Out of Mouths of Babes, brilliant simple sentiment.
Noticed that there was a hint of Welsh in his accent, more noticeable than today's Forest twang.
Re: Positivity thread
Im proud of being a Borderer from the right side of the border living on the wrong side and my accent is the source of endless mirth to many from around here
Re: Positivity thread
He slaps the daub against the wattle
And whistles gaily,
Happy because his little cottage
Is growing daily
The little house of withes and loam
Is daily growing to a home.
He whistles gaily as a blackbird
A moment resting
To sing out, on a leafing willow,
The joy of nesting -
The joy that quivers in his breast
To be alive, and build a nest.
So, slapping daub against the wattle,
Ben's heart is singing,
Because each flourish of his trowel
Nearer is bringing
The happy day he'Il bring her home
To their snug house of withes and loam.