Gary Miller performing 'Unlocked Gatel' at Whippet Records HQ, Ferryhill, Co. Durham on Sunday 7th April 2019. 'Unlocked Gate' is one of several songs written by Gary in honour of Joseph Skipsey, "The Pitman Poet of Percy Main". The song is accompanied by a fabulous illustration by Gary's partner Helen Temperley - look closely and you should be able to see it on the right-hand side of the video frame. Together, they form part of one of their latest collaborative projects 'Northern Grit: The Good, The Bad and The Greedy', a travelling exhibition, recording and performance project.
UNLOCKED GATE
The trapper-lad from Percy Main
With an inward eye and an outward flame
And a restless soul no books could tame
Rose up from the ground
And he burst forth like an outcast flower
Seizing on his lucky hour
His poetry poured like an endless shower
All nature to expound
Straight from the heart, to the heart
His words more keen than a piercing dart
Of weeping mothers torn apart
Like he was one-way bound
And as the big pit-wheel kept turning
Through his years of toil and learning
He found that he was earning
Freedom from his fate
But by the coal-fires burning
He found his stomach churning
For in his mind he kept returning
Back through life’s unlocked gate
In the dusty books upon the shelves
At the Lit and Phil where a deep mind delves
Into the corners of ourselves
Where no voice can be heard
He buried his head and he set his mask
And struggled to rise up to the task
To advise the borrowers who came to ask
Upon the written word
He returned to the mines until another chance came
But a porter’s work was not the same
So another bridge burned but who could blame
This flightless, restless bird
As the wheels of life kept turning
Through the chances he kept spurning
His heart was ever-yearning
To be back where he might belong
For he’d grown more discerning
On all matters concerning
What keeps the pages turning
Through the circle of life’s song
“I have gazed upon the wonders of mountains and lakes
Marvelled at the design of stars and snowflakes
Delighted in wandering by farms and by streams
Scrambled up hills where sunlight streams
I’ve pondered the mysteries of a life beyond
To many questions I felt the need to respond
I’ve been vocal in social circles but then
Retreated to solitude with my books and my pen”
Onwards now to Shakespeare’s abode
But this humble man bore a heavy load
All the patronage and the favours owed
For a life that did not suit
A poet’s paradise for sure
But for the bores he had to endure
Even the garden held no allure
For one who could not take root
He listened to his inner harp
His gifted mind was shrewd and sharp
His instinct led past cliff and scarp
Not for him the easy route
The carriage wheels kept turning
Towards the home fires burning
And for all his years of learning
He found he had no fear
For the chances he was spurning
Nor the bridges he was burning
The circle had ceased turning
And he was finally happy here
(Gary Miller) © 2019 Whippet Records Copyright Control MCPS/PRS
Gary Miller performing 'A Dream of Joseph Skipsey' at Whippet Records HQ, Ferryhill, Co. Durham on Sunday 7th April 2019. 'A Dream of Joseph Skipsey' is written in honour of Joseph Skipsey, "The Pitman Poet of Percy Main". The song is accompanied by a fabulous illustration by Gary's partner Helen Temperley - look closely and you should be able to see it on the right-hand side of the video frame. Together, they form part of one of their latest collaborative projects 'Northern Grit: The Good, The Bad and The Greedy', a travelling exhibition, recording and performance project.
A DREAM OF JOSEPH SKIPSEY
A thick mist cleared and a dream took flight,
A viking ship sailed into the night;
Waterfalls roared down hills of pine,
As I held the prow in the starlight’s shine.
With Joseph Skipsey by my side,
I felt his awe as his eyes grew wide.
And when he turned his face with magnetic force
I recognised a true child of the north.
In a voice reared in the Northumbrian twang,
He opened his heart through the songs he sang.
I listened well as his stories rang,
To the sound of toil ’neath the pit wheel’s clang.
His simple songs spoke straight and true,
Of the collier lad and the strife he knew;
Of love and loss and laughter too,
With great pathos to see him through.
As he watched the wee birds flying by,
I saw a tear escape his eye;
This sensitive soul with poetical mind,
In a solid body of the labouring kind.
Then he spoke of happy childhood days,
When he was wrapped in nature’s ways:
From this Rustic Bard lilting words did flow,
Of the robin, the finch and the mighty crow.
His simple songs from nature grew,
To praise the glory and wondrous hue
Of the Thistle and the Nettle, many flowers too;
Butterflies, moths and the morning dew.
With his thirst for knowledge driving him on,
Likewise his fondness for music and song,
He would labour long hours in his room,
Just as he’d done in the darkling gloom.
The world was a mirror through which he gazed
With a seer’s skill into clearer days,
And when I awoke in the daylight’s glare,
I still felt his spirit standing there.
His simple songs spoke to me
And told me of a destiny,
Rich in hope and running free
Down untrod paths we rarely see.
(Gary Miller) © 2019 Whippet Records Copyright Control MCPS/PRS