That Was When We Knew
When April winds raised winter dust
in bomb battered London
they sang for joy,
though some were fatherless, iron
in their hearts, a chill alloy
that belled pure notes in Spring,
when sudden gusts shook dust from trees
drab Londoners changed their skins,
donned country airs shelled new peas.
But where they sang none sing there now
St. James' choir St. James' bell
both made redundant silent now,
except my memory hears this knell
St. James' bell St. James' bell
not named in London's rhymes
I'll not return to Camberwell
now St. James' bell no longer chimes.
There was a rope from the belfry
for tolling the bell tolling the bell
a few would come to sing the hymns
a choir outnumbered them
whose own parents stayed at home
where television was shown
an organist played full bore
the vicar’s hand that blessed them all
was maimed because of war
So, with a brain brim full of overspill
among some images preferred unseen
I see when weddings paid a choral fee
receptions were catered in the church hall
where Sheila was in the badminton club
who was good at games and grammar school
I delivered a newspaper to her house each day
kissing before placing it in the box.
Miriam moved among different strata
at the time when skiffle turned to rock
she lived on the corner of Flodden Road
where some soldiers once came marching with their flag
and my father stopped holding my hand
while he stood to attention and removed his hat
he was once a Regular in that Regiment
that had barracks close by.
Miriam went to concerts on an island
in the Thames where the Stones played
she was way ahead of me already free
not needing to study for a degree.
Her house was next to a bombsite
through cracks in the fence on Haslmere Road
you could see greenery flowers birds and bees
there were prefabs off Lothian Road
built on flat ground replacing houses
barrage balloons in Myatts Park
had not kept bombs away.
My mother told of putting out incendiaries
in front of Calais Gate where they had scored
a roomy flat when he came home from war.
He’d been blown up in North Africa
then bombed again when he got home
minus an eye and with a gammy leg
That was when we knew what we were fighting for.
Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
2024
