‘Saw the end of that iron-making town
Saw it slowly start to die
As all around the works closed down
Yet no one could really say for why
Then one morning we were told in the wet and cold
To all gather round the foundry door
Where the manager said with a shake of the head
We’re none of us needed any more’
From Iron-Making Town by Graeme Miles
“The terraced streets were my Grand Canyons, the shipyard cranes my redwood trees, those steelwork tips were my mountain ranges and the brickyard ponds were my seven seas”.
These are the words of the songwriter Graeme Miles that inspired Sean Cooney, David Eagle and Michael Hughes of the Teesside folk group The Young’uns – Radio 2’s Folk Band of the Year Award winners in 2015 & 2016. Stumbling across a folk club at the age of 17, school friends Sean, David & Michael first heard the songs of Graeme Miles – songs about their local area – songs that resonated. They realised that there was beauty to be found in a place they had been brought up to believe was “deprived” and “unromantic”, and that Graeme’s songs instilled a sense of pride.
For years now the band have been singing Graeme’s songs, and, in this programme, they find out more about the man and his work. Featuring interviews with Graeme’s widow Annie, and discussion and performances from esteemed musicians from the folk world, including the critically-acclaimed band The Unthanks, this programme highlights some of Graeme’s finest songs. From an emotive performance of ‘Waiting For The Ferry’ on the banks of the River Tees, to a stirring rendition of ‘Ring of Iron’ accompanied by the legendary Billingham group The Wilson Family, The Young’uns discover more about their muse, and present the programme in their unique and humorous way.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b096h773
Cold blows the wind over Fylingdales
Horumarye horumarye
Cold blows the wind over Fylingdales
Cold blows the wind over Fylingdales
Cold blows the wind how it whines how it wails
Horumarye horumarye
*
Pale shines the moon on the burial mounds
Horumarye horumarye
Pale shines the moon on the burial mounds
Pale shines the moon on the burial mounds
Where ancient bones lie in the black peaty ground
Horumarye horumarye
*
Dark fly the clouds over Murk Mire way
Horumarye horumarye
Dark fly the clouds over Murk Mire way
Dark fly the clouds over Murk Mire way
It’s hard to tell if it’s night or it’s day
Horumarye horumarye
*
Grey hangs the mist down in Wheeldale Gill
Horumarye horumarye
Grey hangs the mist down in Wheeldale Gill
Grey hangs the mist down in Wheeldale Gill
Grey hangs the mist feel the damp and the chill
Horumarye horumarye
*
Graeme Miles 1935 – 2013
What kind of hell is this, wherein the sons of Vulcan dwell?
Graeme Miles
Cold February and all is not well
There’s few will sleep easy this night
Down on the dockside, grim silent men standing
Under the pale yellow light
There’s scarcely a murmur and laughter there’s none
Of whispering there’s barely a sound
For their thoughts are away, down there in the bay
Where it’s said that the Lairdsfield is down
Bleak February a cruel bitter wind
Stirs up the black grimy foam
Out there on the sea is no place to be
Far better by the fireside and warm
But not for the sailor the soft easy chair
He’s out there earning his bread
But tonight there are ten who’ll work never again
Counted among the drowned dead
Dark February a few flakes of snow
Drift over bowed heads on the stray
By the breakwater side and along by the Gare
They wait for the first streaks of day
And over the sand-dunes and over the bar
See a few feet of keel nothing more
Held fast in the sand with all of her hands
Barely two miles from the shore
Sad February and all is not well
There’s few will sleep easy this night
Down at the dockside, grim silent men standing
Under the pale yellow light
For down there at Teesmouth
The Lairdsfield is drowned
And with her every man of her crew
Ten men who’ll not see the springtime again
Nor yet see the cold winter through
The Smell of Water 