Competition Tessa Castro
TESSA CASTRO
IN COMPETITION No 264, you were invited to write a Spring Song to a (specified) tune. Although I came out of my study whistling, I had found quite a few of your songs impossible to fit to the tune named. I also wondered why Sing a Song of Sixpence should be a favourite melody.
But David Shields got out his mouth organ to sketch the tune of The Times They Are a-changin’ for his lines: ‘Come gather round, people, leave your cosy room,/ Get out in the fresh air and log out of Zoom.’ Marianne Barton defiantly set to the tune of The Battle Hymn of the Republic the words ‘Glory, glory, this is madness!/ I must worry just a tad less.’ Maggie Mclean, to The Ash Grove, wrote, ‘We’ll walk in Kew Gardens and look at the flowers,/ Although we can’t linger to see how they smell, / As that has been banned under government powers.’
Commiserations to them and congratulations to those printed below, each of whom wins £25, with the bonus prize of The Chambers Dictionary going to the upbeat I White.
(In Dulci Jubilo)
I heard the news today-ay-ay
That spring is on the way-ay-ay:
Blackbird, in the garden,
Was singing more than usual –
In fact, you’d think he starred in
The latest roof-top musical.
But all he meant to say
Was ‘Spring is on the way.’
Let’s hope there’s no delay-ay-ay
When spring is on the way-ay-ay.
It seems a confirmation
There’s such a thing as happiness,
And we’ve an inclination
To believe in promises
That we’ll be making hay –
’Cause spring is on the way!
I White
( Makin’ Whoopee)
Another spring, another spell
Of every day a living hell,
Another season, another reason
For blaming Brexit.
Who can be happy as a lark
When half of Kent’s a lorry park?
The flowers are blooming, but woe is looming
All thanks to Brexit.
Spring’s balmy airs should feel delicious,
Although the smell of rotting fishes
Could kill the pleasure we used to treasure.
It must be Brexit.
Primavera is time to roam. If we are locked down fast at home Spring can’t inspire us, but that’s the virus. We can’t blame Brexit. Basil Ransome-davies
(Abide with Me) As Bard commands, blow winter wind again And leave the fickle spring to younger men; With snow and sleet cocoon me in my lair, For I am old with nothing left to spare. Yet once, when I was young, I loved the spring: I jumped for joy to hear the skylark sing, Bent low to smell a flower, touch a leaf And had no use for misery nor grief. For then my fancy turned to love divine: I dreamt that I was yours and you were mine, I learnt to flirt and frolic, laugh and sigh, I wondered at a rainbow in the sky. Go now, blithe spring, your vernal gods confound, Let lonely winter last the whole year round; But stay – I hear a cuckoo’s far refrain, And yes – a primrose glistens in the lane. Peter Davies
(Danny Boy) O damn it all, the pipes, the pipes are freezing, Weeks end to end lockdown hems us inside; My mojo’s gone, my nose is far from pleasing, ‘Tishoo, tishoo’ is heard both far and wide. But every evening’s sun is later burning And every day our hopes of freedom grow And my heart soars to feel that spring’s returning – O annual joy, O annual joy, I love you so. O sanitised is every item wholly, The wipes still sprawl by table, chair and loo; I’m tired of tuna, beans and ravioli And meeting friends for meals is still taboo. But daffodils will spear our land’s green spaces, Stand side by side in one great gathering And they will burst the masks that hide their faces And, breathing freely, in their glory greet the spring. Jane Bower
COMPETITION No 266 Some now say that Stonehenge was first set up in Wales. Please write a poem, on any theme, with the title Stones. Maximum 16 lines. We still cannot accept any entries by post, I’m afraid, but do send them by e-mail (comps@theoldie.co.uk – don’t forget to include your own postal address), marked ‘Competition No 266’, by 8th April.