Ripon Uk 1944 Poem by John Rickell

Squat Cathedral at the city centre
looks half finished from the race course
the Ure at my back forded by
a concrete ramp, for tanks
there was a war, perhaps you know
there always was, there always is.
riding from York, thirty miles and tired.
weed clogged canal, factory on the left
final climb into the square
aching legs and sweat;
holiday begins today.
Ure-Bank-Top across the bridge
four if I remember.....
the station and the smoke,
army lorries pass the house
shake the terrace cottage,
four rooms; toilet in the yard.
Aunt Ada uncle Fred and Tom.
Lampreys in the river,
Laver and the Skell conjoined
bird nests in the woods;
never seemed to rain.
Shunting in the sidings.....
broken crocks and frightened cows.
rabbits in the cutting,
shot by uncle Fred
the airgun in the wardrobe,
Sten gun by the hearth,
ten bob made by blacksmiths,
khaki uniform and webbing belt,
out half the night.
I can't remember bombs,
Leeds a better target
the army camp above the hill
left in peace, hardly worth the trouble,
great to be so unimportant.
Nine each night, the Horn Blower
three blasts in the square
curled around his back,
(The curfew never late)
an honour so I'm told,
every night and all for nowt
and that a Yorkshireman!
Uncle drives for NER
a lorry not a train
picks up eggs and bacon
hides them in his snap.
Thinks at twelve
I have n't noticed,
scared police will call.
Holiday's so short....
back home again, bike in the shed
my war effort complete....
eggs in the saddle bag.
They got the gas works Sunday,
A Pole got them near Driffield!