THE SONG OF HIAWALPOLE

 

II.  THE FOUR WINDS

 

“Honour be to Merville Potter!”

Cried the members, cried the first ones,

When he was in triumph chosen

By the sacred twelve of Barnet,

From the regions of the North-West,

From the kingdom of the Herts-Lands,

From the land of the Two Brewers.

 

     “Honour be to Merville Potter!”

With a shout exclaimed the members.

“Honour be to Merville Potter!

Henceforth shall he be the Chairman,

And hereafter and for ever

Shall he hold supreme dominion

Over every kind of member.

Call him no more Merville Potter,

Call him Chairman, El Supremo!”

 

     Thus was Merville Potter chosen

Chairman of the Club Committee,

He himself the El-Supremo

Gave some honours to his children;

Unto Jean he gave the kitchen,

Gave the purse to Peter Clinton,

And the minutes, so demanding,

To the pleasant Beryl Summons.

 

     Thus the places were divided;

Thus the children of the Chairman

Had their stations in the Circle,

At the centre of the Circle,

For himself, as El Supremo,

Stayed the mighty Merville Potter.

 

 

 

III.  HIAWALPOLE’S CHILDHOOD 

 

Downward through the Barnet twilight,

In the days that are forgotten,

In the unremembered Minutes,

From he highest fell the Stovell,

Fell the loyal Joy-the-Stovell,

She the one above all others.

 

     Thus was born the Hiawalpole,

Thus was born the new Supremo;

But the loyal Joy-the-Stovell,

Hiawalpole’s gentle sponsor,

In her turn expired, deserted

By the former El Supremo,

By the mighty Merville Potter.

 

     By the shores of South Herts Golf Course,

By the shining Stray-of-Whetsone,

Stood the wigwam of the Stovell,

The Supremo, Joy-the-Stovell.

Dark behind it rose the High Street,

Rose the black and gloomy Woodside,

Rose the Tally-Ho of corners,

Bright before it beat South Finchley,

Beat the clear and sunny Glebe Land,

Beat the shining Stray-of-Whetstone.

 

     There the retired Joy-the-Stovell

Nursed the little Hiawalpole,

Rocked her in the Linden Gardens,

Bedded soft in picnic-parties,

Safely bound with wines and cheeses.

 

     Many things the Stovell taught her

Of the form of Constitution;

Showed how major Club proposals

Had to be supplied in writing;

Showed how booking-in for functions

Had to have sufficient notice,

How, if members had to cancel,

Promptness showed consideration.

 

     In the club on summer evenings

Joined the little Hiawalpole,

Joined the eat-outs and the dances,

Heard the slap-slap-cock of shuttle,

Sounds of music, words of wonder;

Of all functions learned the language,

Learned their names and all their secrets,

How to price the social evenings,

Where to hold the monthly dances,

How to play the card and board games,

Why some members were so timid,

Talked with them whene’er she met them:

Called them “Hiawalpole’s Children”.

 

     Then the Pillock, the great boaster,

He the marvellous story-teller,

He the traveller and the talker,

He the friend of Joy-the-Stovell,

Made a diary for the Circle;

From a Christmas gift he made it,

Will a ball-point made the entries,

Touched with tongue and pressed with blotter,

Which he gave to Hiawalpole.

 

Deep Purple, the background music to this page, will forever be associated with the bandleader of the pre-war, wartime, and post-WW2 era, Jimmy Dorsey.  

 

For providing this Midi file, I am indebted to my dear friend Susan Helene whose own site may be found at Old Souls Station - by clicking the button below.  She has also provided the Midis on Parts 3, 6 and 8.