Love in Doveridge

Doveridge Manor House

Back to Doveridge Senior citizens who I last saw at the beginning of February! But we soon got going again. Knowing I had only about 45 minutes of practical time with them I had taken the start of a song based on the ideas collected last time. In no time we had written two more verses. There seemed to be quite a buzz in the room and enjoymment in singing the result. Here it is:

Chorus:
We love to live in Doveridge,
Nestling here upon the edge
Of Derbyshire and Staffordshire,
We love to live in Doveridge.

1. When we were young
We’d bill and we’d coo,
Down Pickley’s Lane
We’d walk and we’d woo,
As under our yew tree
Came Robin Hood
To meet with his Marion
And ask if she would (Chorus)

2. Hopscotch on the pavement,
Whip and top as well,
Skipping in the playground,
Sledging down Red Hill,
Conkers from the Manor House,
Football on the field,
Carolling at Christmas time,
Chestnuts to be peeled .(Chorus)

3. Now post office on the High Street,
Sells all the goods we need,
Take your dog along the footpaths,
But don't forget the lead!
Playschool at the village hall,
Dancing Friday nights,
And Doveridge Parish Council
Fighting for our rights! (Chorus)

A rousing ending indeed! I also shared the songs from Sudbury and Hulland Ward senior residents and everyone joined in.

Severla members promised me some poems about Doveridge and John Taylor had written a special one since my last visit:

The Ridge Above the Dove
O Doveridge, O Doveridge,
When I've been far away
I've always had you in my mind
And thought of you each day.
I've thought about the village hall
When many miles away
Where I was once vice-chairman
But no vice came my way.

As always in that edifice
We've many rare events
Including every other week
The Senior residents.
Well at our meetinghere today
A speaker name of Sally
From East side of the Pennines
So she's not from our alley.

We spoke of many village things
Post Office, village shops,
Of hopscotch, skipping and the rest
And local dance hall hops,
Of skating on the Parklands Lake,
Toboggans on Bond's Croft,
But most important thing of all,
The snogging, loved and lost.

On Pickley's Lane and round the well
When darkness failed the spies
But when we got the bright street lights
Well there before your eyes
All was revealed for folks to see
And so it spoiled their game
For making love in floods of light
Well, isn't quite the same.

So nowadays, no rendezvous
They've new techniques instead,
They simply say "Ey up my duck"
and hop it into bed.
Now turning to the River Dove,
Descending from the Peaks
That marks the line with Staffordshire
Where I've not been for weeks.

There in churchyard, a yew tree grows
Beneath which were betrothed
Robin and Maid Marion
But this has not been proved
For there are many other trees
That claim this right to fame
So take it with a pinch of salt
A pity and a shame.

But quite the star attraction
Must be the sewage farm
Where you can stand and sniff all day
And keep your nostrils warm.

Well, that's my tale of Doveridge,
There's much more you may bet,
I only came in '61
But I'm not finished yet!

Thankyou John, you brightened up a wet Thursday! Come on you poets - lets have more! You can post them direct to this blog if you like by clicking on comments.