V. HIAWALPOLES SAILING
Give me of your trust, O Barnet!
Of your full support, O Barnet!
Rambles by the Lea Green River,
Lakeside concerts in the valley!
I a singles group will build me,
Build a sturdy club for sailing,
That shall float upon the current,
Like a Bargery in Autumn,
Like a Stephen Winter Woolley!
Lay aside your punch, O Barnet!
Lay aside your hot fork suppers,
For the Summer-time is coming,
And the sun is warm in Hendon,
And you need no hot fork suppers!
Thus aloud cried Hiawalpole
In the ears of Gwen-the-Forrest,
By the rushing Pauline Fletcher,
With the spinsters singing gaily,
All the widowers were singing,
And Gibson, from sleep awaking,
Started up and said, Behold me!
Jesus! said Gibson, Behold me!
And the Group, with all its members,
Rustled and gave up its mourning,
Giving (for a small donation),
These events, O Hiawalpole!
Give me of your pubs, O Kurschner!
Of your great and flowing taverns,
My club members now to succour,
Make more pliable to heed me.
Through the mouth of Bob-the-Kurschner
Came a sound, a cry of horror,
Came a murmur of resistance,
But it whispered, breathing
bitter,
Take my pubs, O Hiawalpole!
Give me pork to carve, 0 Findlay!
Of the Orange Tree, O Brenner!
My own group to bind together,
So that we may feed together,
That the Vegan may not enter,
That the Beth Din may not get me!
And the Brenner and the Findlay
Put aside their air of mourning,
Tugged at forelock, pulled at
tassels,
Said together, Come tomorrow,
Eat-outs, yours, 0 Hiawalpole!
Give me of your tapes, 0 Freestone!
Of your Beatles and your Abba,
So that we may dance together,
That the loneliness not enter,
That the hard rock sound may get
me!
And the Freestone, tall and sombre,
Sobbed through all its ancient
cassettes,
Rattled like an Art Garfunkle,
Answered rocking, answered
rolling,
Take the lot, 0 Hiawalpole!
Give me of your plants, 0 Evans!
All your plants, 0 Pat-the-Evans!
I will make a swop-shop of them,
Take some cuttings for my members,
And some roots to deck their
gardens!
From East Barnet, Pat-the-Evans
neath her floppy hat looked at
her,
Shot her rose-bush barbs, like
arrows,
Saying, with an earthy rumble,
Through the tangle of her
shrubland,
Take my plants, 0 Hiawalpole!
Thus the Barnet-group was builded
By the Shepherd, by the Tinkler,
In the bosom of Gwen Forrest;
And the boroughs life was in it,
All its sports days and its
tennis,
All the lightness of the Clifford,
All the toughness of the Williams,
All the Greenslades supple
sinews;
And it floated on the current
Like a Bargery in Autumn,
Like a Winter Stephen Woolley.
And thus sailed the Hiawalpole,
Down the rushing road of Edgware,
Sailed through Hendon Way and
Fryent,
Sailed through Colindeep and
Harrow,
While her friend, strong
Don-the-Baker,
Made the teas, and bread he buttered.
I felt that the simple guitar sound of Tarrega's
Souvenirs from Alhambra fitted the theme of
this section. The midi was obtained from the
edessa.topo.auth.gr midi page which can be
found at http://edessa.topo.auth.gr/pub/midi/.