Ammon Wrigley - "The Pennines"

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

The Pennines

In the Pennine dales in springtime,
Oh, who would not be there
When the thrush is in the hedgerow
And the lark’s in the air;
When the frolic winds come shouting
With a hey and a hoy,
And the heart is like a blossom
That’s just found light and joy.
On the Pennine moors in summer,
I want no scene more fair,
Nor a joy more sweet than roaming
With the grouse and the hare.
When the bees are in the heather
Lip deep in purple wine,
Then the life they live in Eden
On Pennine moors is mine.
On the Pennine hills in autumn,
When harvest winds are spent,
When the gold is on the bracken,
And silver on the bent;
When the fields grow honey yellow,
In days of dreamy ease,
Then to me they are the gardens
Of my Hesperidees.
On the Pennine hills in winter,
With a nip in the wind,
There’s a red cheek and a bracing
For body and for mind.
Then away from streeted houses
As far as bird can fly,
To the hills God made for roaming
And health and joy, say I.

Ammon Wrigley - "The Pennines"


This page was last modified on 14 August 2018 and has been edited by Dave Pattern.

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