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Jarrow March day 16 - Old Grammar School Market Harborough

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  1. gayfer2:48
  2. Janus3:10
  3. lolacynch3:11
  4. quadfishcake3:18
  5. milinski3:18
  6. GwenH3:23
  7. deinert3:25
  8. maryannb13:31
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thanks Mary, I hoped this series would prove interesting


Thanks June; all so interesting. Love the puzzle.


Hi Lela, nothing like being there among it all to capture the spirit of the times. It's only 9 years since the last of the marchers died and yet is seems to be a different age, though I was alive at the time


Yes, the poem captured the spirit of the marchers well.........(lovely building!).....


Hi Joyce the windows seem pretty high up that would make sure they concentrated on their lessons.


Love this building, how cool to go to school to one on ''stilts''!! Great poem, it really shared a lot of their history. Thanks June!! :)))
(time, 5:06)


Hi Phyllis that's me knocling at the door. Well not academically brilliant but very descriptive which will do for me. Seems they enjoyed the march despite the rain and sore feet, there was camaraderie and a laugh to be had. there is a line from some other poem 'With moothies up front' I rather like, referring to mouth organs and they had kettle drums. My betting somebody played the bones, or spoons1. they were in touch with 'back home' all the time and, in the unlikely event of a job being offered they would be informed and taken back home. No jobs were offered however.


Well, June this should rank up there amid all the best prose and poetry England has to offer, and I say this not trying to be funny either. A lot of poetry simply mirrors the life and times we live in, a social commentary so to speak, and if ever there was need for something to be recorded and remembered this is one such piece.

No doubt written with tongue in cheek, it no less tell the story of these brave Jarrow Men. Hope you are ok? I have just made a rather smashing coconut cake, will you come over for coffee?
Nos da - Phyllis


couldn't find anything out about what happened here


Poem by one of the marchers

I'm one of the Jarrow Marchers, and I'm proud to say I am,
I've been fed like a fighting cock, on beef and eggs and ham,
We started off from Jarrow Town, a palefaced hungry band,
With all the population out, to shake us by the hand,
But as we left our homes behind, determination grew,
On every face, to show the world, what Jarrow lads could do,
Well led by "Marshal Riley" a leader and a man,
With "Game Wee Ellen" by his side, to carry out her plan,
From dawn to dusk we marched along, with smiles upon our faces,
We had our smokes and cracked our jokes, in scores of different places,
Each morning saw our tramp begin, each evening saw it end,
With blistered heels to bandage up and ragged clothes to mend,
We passed some pleasant country scenes, and left them with a pang,
But the finest sight throughout the march was O'Hanlon and his gang,
With steaming dixies on the fires and tons of food for all,
We just sat down and knocked it back, like the lads at Finnegans ball,
Then came "postmaster Symonds, with his little job to do,
He'd shout your name, up went your hand, and he your letter threw,
Then out upon the road again, Pat Scullion shouting loud,
Fall in your sections there, you chaps, don't mingle with the crowd,
For five long weeks we marched along, and had a glorious time,
All good things come to an end, so must my little rhyme,
But not before I've sung my praise for Jarrow's Fighting Mayor,
Who left his work to cheer us up and joined us here and there,
I'll pipe down and thank all hands, from doctors down to waiters,
Who did their best to cheer the lot, of Jarrow's Bold Crusaders,
We did our bit, we played the game, in spite of all our "Blarney"
So farewell lads, the best of luck, from John J.(smiler) Harney.

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