Wrekin songs

Below are the lyrics from 'Lays of The Wrekin', two songs written in 1847 for piano. You can read more about Victorian music that honoured the Wrekin by

LAYS OF THE WREKIN (1847)

By George Jackson

The symphonies and accompaniments by James Clarke, London.

Published for J. Houlston, Book & Music Seller, Market Place, Wellington, Salop, by Robert Cocks & Co. 6 New Burlington Street.

No. 1: “Ah! Who when in childhood”

Written, composed, and (with kind permission) respectfully dedicated to

Mrs Cludde and the ladies of Shropshire

Ah who when in childhood has rambled the steep,

That winds to the bold Wrekin’s brow?

Or who dwells o’er the pleasures tho’ past, ever deep,

But fain would return to them now?

The light sportive dance and the love-breathing song,

In accents so tender yet gay,

While mirth-stirring peels on the mind faintly throng,

Like echoes of joy far away.

In life’s after years too, the lover will dream,

Of the spot so remembered with bliss,

Where love’s brightest glances from beauty did beam,

While affection was sealed with a kiss;

So kindred afar in a wild desert clime,

O’er wearied with care as they roam,

Will muse on the Wrekin and friends of old time,

Then sigh for their own mountain home.

Old Wrekin! For ever, a landmark thou’lt be,

Of joys that enchain every heart,

Proud height of our birthplace we cling unto thee,

Til death the fond union shall part.

Around the lov’d hearth, whether distant or near,

Where ever our footsteps may rove,

We’ll tell of thy revels and glory so dear,

And the days of our first early love.

No. 2: “When the wine sparkles bright”

Written, composed, and (with kind permission) respectfully dedicated to

His Grace the Duke of Cleveland and the gentlemen of Shropshire

When the wine sparkles bright mid the gay festive throng,

As we merrily sit round the bowl,

Or the pleasures of home sweet enlivened with song,

Spread a charm that enraptures the soul;

Then a bumper we’ll fill and our toast it shall be,

To Old Wrekin, our proud native height,

May it long rear its head o’er the land of the free,

’Til it sinks in eternity’s night.

The brave sons of Tyrol so blithesome and gay,

Chant a carol with true mountain glee,

As they roam o’er the hills where their chieftains array,

Made the host of the Tyrant to flee.

So with patriot voice on the Wrekin’s high crown,

We will sing to fair liberty’s cause,

To our Heroes we’ll quaff, to our sires of renown,

Who fought for our rights and our laws.

Fill the wine cup once more, for Salopia huzza!

On her uplands or rich spreading plain,

O’er the Severn’s broad stream as it flows from afar,

Well huzza boys again and again.

May her sons, like the Wrekin, be steadfast and bold,

Ever true through life’s changeful career,

And her daughters’ fair virtues in beauty unfold,

As her valleys in springtime appear.