Charlie’s Poems 2

 I have mentioned this item in the past, but I discovered over a long period of time that Charlie got the name wrong, in that ‘Jean’, who lived at her parents Bed and Breakfast in Sun Street, Ffestiniog, a predominately Welsh speaking area, was actually called ‘Jenny’.  Charlie did not know that, in ‘Welsh’ Jennie sounds like Jean.  I did track her down to the house in Sun Street, but she had sadly died some 10 years earlier, the house then (2009) contained relatives and I was told that Jenny was a confirmed flirt all her life, but who died childless.

And another Editors note, I typed up these poems properly, but this wordpress website insists on putting a double line space between individual lines of type and unless someone has a solution for that, this unfortunately is the result.

                                     Jean

 

There’s the pretty girl

And the witty girl

And the girl that bobs her hair;

          The girl that’s pert

          And the girl that’s a flirt

And the girl with a baby stare.

 

Now I know a girl who resides in Wales’

          The prettiest girl I’ve seen,

Whose beauty of feature, like Cumbria’s dales

Are such as is read of in fairy tales-

          And that girl’s name is Jean.

 

We were three care free cyclists on touring bent,

          Three cyclists young and keen;

Who into the Vale of Ffestiniog went,

And found that additional charm was lent

          By means of a lassie called Jean!

 

There’s one of our trio called ‘Blackberry Joe’

          A lanky youth, and lean;

Who confided to us in tones so low

Of his love for a lassie that all of us know

And that girl’s name is Jean! 

 

 

There’s old fashioned Tommy, a bachelor shy

          With girl’s he was never seen;

Who whispered to us as he sat by

Of his love for a lass who had caught his eye

          And that girl’s name is Jean!

 

Now I am a chap of rather dull wit,

          Wherever girl’s have been;

But one there is who made rather a hit-

And captured my heart something more than a bit

          And that girl’s name is Jean!!!

 

There we sat dreaming youthful dreams –

          Our knowledge of love was green;

Vainly plotting and scheming schemes

Through not a bit of intelligence gleams

          For the sake of a lassie named Jean!

 

Companions keen on a cycling tour,

          Happy and serene;

And now we’re enemies; though I’m sure

That always a woman was man’s undoer

          Pretty girls like Jean!

 

So follow the moral, cyclists all,

          And know by what you’ve seen;

Stand with your backs against the wall,

And fight resolved that you never will fall

          When on the scene pops Jean!  

                                                                            New Year Tour 1926

 

Charlie’s Poems 1

Here are some of Charlie Chadwick’s own poems, not previously published.

 

I will introduce them gradually over the coming weeks of ‘Norway in 1938’, to break the monotony of wind and rain, but will generally publish on the website on Wednesdays.

 

We Three  

 

There’s Tom and I, and ‘Blackberry Joe’

          Cyclists keen are we;

Bachelor boys of the Rolling Wheel

True to the game as tempered steel -

          Rollicking Mudlarks Three!

 

Sailors talk of the rolling deep,

          Singing songs of the sea;

But yo-ho-ho for the Open Road

Defy we will what wind e’er blowed

          Stamp on ‘em, Mudlarks Three!

 

There’s a gale on the road today boys,

          Floods on the river Dee;

Then gales we’ll face and floods we’ll brave,

What care we if tempests rave?

          Into it, Mudlarks Three!

 

The rain it raineth every day,

          Drenching ceaselessly,

We care not a jot for all the rain,

That ever fell on moor or plain

          Down to it, Mudlarks Three!

 

So here’s to the grand old cycling game,

          And here’s to the CTC;

And here’s to the wind and rain and snow

And Tom and I and ‘Blackberry Joe’-

          Rollicking Mudlarks Three

 

New Year Tour 1926