Ammon Wrigley - "Winds of the Pennines"

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

Winds of the Pennines

Winds of the Pennines fresh and free,
You were ever good friends to me;
Out on the moors from morn ’till eve,
Happy with you and loth to leave;
Ne’er to forget the miles I went
Up to the knees in blowing bent;
Roving far from the beaten track,
Wind to my face, wind to my back;
Days when you sang, days when you howled,
When you were warm, when you were cold.
When you were kind, when you were rough,
Gladly I roamed by stream and clough;
Noon at my lunch of bread and cheese
You swept the crumbs from off my knees;
Whirled them away, laughed in my 1ace
Making me seek a sheltered place:
Winds of April, green with spring,
Winds of Summer, purple with ling;
Winds of Autumn, mellow with gold,
Winds of Winter, white with cold;
I know you all and known you long,
And praised you oft in tale and song.
Winds of the Pennines rich in wine,
What tankards you have filled of mine;
Wine that never from grape was pressed,
Wine by no pope or abbot blest;
Wine that no vintner ever knew,
Or tapster from a barrel drew;
Wine from the east, wine from the south,
That left a sunbeam in my mouth;
From north and west sparkle and grip
That danced for joy upon my lip;
Wine that never went to my head,
Or made my feet heavy as lead;
And from those wines how I could taste
The blended flavours of the waste;
The heather bloom, the bracken fronds,
The reeds that grow by lonely ponds;
The wimberry blue the cloudberry red
The cotton grass with snow white head;
The call of grouse, the plover’s pipe,
The curlew’s cry, the drumming snipe;
Moors are my inns where wine is free:
More I drink and better for me.

Ammon Wrigley - "Winds of the Pennines"


This page was last modified on 12 August 2018 and has been edited by Dave Pattern.

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