16 June 2014

Chimney-sweepers' Dancing Day

Up those chimneys all the year,
save one day in spring,
then, with Jack, we make our cheer,
through the streets we sing.

Stick it to the master sweep,
on the first of May;
come tomorrow, wounds will weep,
but today we play.


One day off from climbing flues,
black from head to feet,
now we’re reds and greens and blues,
and the air smells sweet.

Stick it to the master sweep,
on the first of May;
come tomorrow, wounds will weep,
but today we play.


Not this day for scraping cuts,
knees and elbows raw,
smoke fumes blazing in our guts,
brimstone, brine and straw.

Stick it to the master sweep,
on the first of May;
come tomorrow, wounds will weep,
but today we play.


Neither’s this a day to die,
stuck in closing walls,
nor to hear a scream and cry
as a poor lad falls.

Stick it to the master sweep,
on the first of May;
come tomorrow, wounds will weep,
but today we play.


How we wish we could be free,
but we have to earn,
put to work by family,
climb and brush and burn.

Stick it to the master sweep,
on the first of May;
come tomorrow, wounds will weep,
but today we play.


* * *
On Bank Holiday Monday 5 May, Happenstance performed at Sudeley Castle, as part of the programme for ‘A Victorian May Day’.

This poem is inspired by the dance created especially for the occasion, recalling a custom in London for the chimney-sweeps of the town to start up the May Day revelries, accompanied by Jack-in-the-Green. There’s a very interesting account of a Cheltenham celebration at http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Folk-Lore/Volume_4/May-Day_in_Cheltenham (I use the second line of Mr. Ames’s ‘ditty’ for my title).

According to research (mostly Mayhew via Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chimney_sweep), May Day was the sweeps’ only holiday. Despite attempts at regulation throughout the Victorian era, working conditions remained horrendous for many young boys. I include these experiences in my poem, to draw a contrast with the exuberance of their one day off to dance.

Each verse and the chorus follows the rhyme scheme ABAB…, and the rhythm is – ~ – ~ – ~ – / – ~ – ~ – etc. This is the same rhythm as ‘Song of the Stones’, but to my ear it’s a lot ‘skippier’.


<(:-)

To Sudeley

Grey roadsign points, grand holm oak gestures, nodding stately crown,
reclining high in bristling lordship over terraced town,
commanding upright standing from lime consort at his feet,
trim pollard dwarfs to farmyard giants lining vineclad street.

Warm brick and honeysuckle trellis swirl in citrus breeze,
Allotment Alf snores in his deckchair near unfurled sweet peas,
three children launch boat twigs off crumbling bridge to chanting stream,
as thirsty mare and foals lap keenly, chestnut coats agleam.

Fields sprawl beyond the gatehouse, far hills circle castle grounds,
in dappled shade ewes settle while their joyful offspring bounds,
swans sail through silver ripples to alight on bulrush isle,
nudge downy cygnets waddling ways in double, triple file.

Triumphal archway waves our passage through its ample flanks,
two golden beeches linking limbs on daisy-speckled banks,
then afternoon of fort adventures, fresh ice cream supply,
and gliding past the mulberry tree, a joyful peacock’s cry.


* * *
This poem introduces my Sudeley series, which is inspired by watching Happenstance perform at ‘A Victorian May Day’ and ‘Happenstance Day of Dance’, on 5 and 26 May respectively.

I lived in Winchcombe for a number of years and one of my favourite walks was ‘the Sudeley Stroll’, from Abbey Terrace, down Vineyard Street, and along the scenic drive. One summer I worked as a waitress in the restaurant and I walked this route about five times per week. The poem is a mixture of memories from the late 1980s to the present, with a peacock at the end to recall the handsome fellow who attended the Day of Dance. He may turn up again later ;>)

Like ‘The Winchcombe Morris side of yore’, ‘To Sudeley’ is a fourteener: ~ — ~ — ~ — ~ — ~ — ~ — ~ — (‘mulberry’ here has two syllables, for a jaunty air). I enjoyed revisiting the castle grounds and I owe thanks to Mrs T. for her caution that positioning sheep in ‘alder shade’ might result in their settling too close to the river and possibly falling in altogether – hence ‘dappled’ in my final draft.


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