Ammon Wrigley - "In Saddleworth"

The following is a transcription of a work by Saddleworth poet Ammon Wrigley (1861-1946).

In Saddleworth

It’s good to be in Saddleworth
In the Springtime of the year,
When the cloughs are yellow coltsfoot
And the blossom days are near;
When the lark is on the uplands
And the throstle’s in the lane,
When the fields are fair as heaven
And the heart is young again.
It’s good to be in Saddleworth,
In that little red necked shire,
When the sunburnt folks are housing
In the meadows round the byre;
When the dales are full of laughter
And the skies are full of light
And the lads and maids are singing
On the Summer roads at night.
It’s good to be in Saddleworth,
Just to wander up and down,
When the home-fed hams are salted
And the hunting ale is brown;
When the fields are Autumn dappled
And the haigs red on the thorn
And the brown hare sits and listens
For the winding of the horn.
It’s good to be in Saddleworth
When it’s snowing o’er the moors,
And a rough old northern Winter
Whirls the drifts about the doors;
That’s the time for beef and puddings,
Warm mulled ale and hearty fare,
When the farmer sleeps and fattens
In his old grandfather’s chair.
It’s good to be in Saddleworth
When you’re full of aches and pains,
And the healing winds are blowing
O’er the pastures and the lanes;
When you’re feeling dull and weary
And you lack the nip of life,
O’er the hills and get a bracing
That will fit you for the strife.
It’s good to be in Saddleworth
When the road beneath you spins,
And the fresh air makes you relish
Bread and cheese at moorland inns;
Take your fill of breezy weather,
Nature’s physic when you're sick,
Till the life within you sparkles
With the joy of being “wick”.
It’s good to be in Saddleworth,
O’er the green miles and the grey,
There’s no better earth for roaming
And no better folks I say;
Up and o’er the top of Wharmton,
In the keen life-giving air,
For whoever tramps in Saddleworth,
Says good-bye to every care.