From every hamlet through the Fens they’d come,
The young, the not-so-young, the short, the tall,
All drawn by sound of keyboard, fiddle, drum,
To bring their warmth to warm the cold church hall.
One night in seven they sang their several parts
Round well-known songs they first loved years before –
To make a sound to soften the hardest of hearts,
With such a spirit that none could ever feel poor!
But then the Piper went away betimes
Beyond the reach of all these Fenland folk
To find his fame (with luck) in sunnier climes
Once more, the hall an empty shell – no joke!
What’s lost, can Fenland’s richness now restore,
And songs of love and laughter sound once more?
Chris Moller, 13Nov2004.