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.