Many thanks to everyone who took part in the inaugural Village Scarecrow Festival in June, which had a musical theme. Many of the entries eventually congregated for a 'jam session' in front of the Rectory. We're definitely looking forward to next year - in the meantime, here are some of the entries and a few words from our resident poet Roger Dolphin...
A Breath of Life
Once upon a time in Rib, approaching June’s fourth week,
The clime was quite unseasonable, lacking warmth, and bleak.
Beside each road and leafy lane, all looking so forlorn,
Stood scarecrows holding instruments – guitars and fiddles, horns.
Up in the firmament looking down, the Almighty spied these guys,
All fashioned out of straw and cloth with diverse things for eyes,
And thought, “these scarecrows need a life so they can sing and play
And bring a little sunshine to warm these dismal days”.
He summoned St Cecilia, all music’s patron saint:
“Do you think folks in Ribchester would be perturbed and faint
If I gave speech and motion to scarecrows on display?”
“Not if done at dead of night” she said. “On the solstice, I would say”.
“To do it when folks are astir could prove to be quite rash;
Diversity dancing by the road would maybe cause a crash”.
“Very well” the almighty said “At midnight, twenty first,
I’ll breathe some life into these guys. They’ll play like they’ve rehearsed”.
My friends if you should be about quite late on Sunday night
And Jailhouse Rock is belted out by Elvis all in white,
Who’s adjacent to Bill Haley still rocking round his clock,
They’re avoiding The Sex Pistols who are running wild, amok.
Maybe Wilf, the one man band, may offer a rendition,
As Sabben’s rats swim Duddel Brook in true Hamelin tradition,
Your chance of seeing groups and stars, all worth of mention,
Is thanks to Greenside’s Carol Milne…and divine intervention.