Do you mind me asking what school that was? I'm trying to compile as much biographical information about his as I can. If you had any thoughts or anecdotes about him I'd definitely be interested in hearing them!
@@StaffordshireHiraeth Etheridge County Secondary Bilston. The school was knocked down when the Black Country route was built. Jon taught us poetry and music I still remember some of them. He was a decent guy outside the classroom and always liked to talk about the local area but inside a disciplinarian some may not have got on to well with him but the majority did. My parents kept the Pipe Hall hotel in Bilston and he came to our folk club there once, greeted me with hello young Jonesy what are you doing here, told him I lived there. As I said a decent guy. I left school 1964 the year Jon started there.
@@oldhippiejon Thank you very much that's so interesting to hear. I wonder if he was teaching you some of the folk songs he was researching at the time.
Hope you don't mind but this was one of the poems Jon taught which he was keen on. It was early last September nigh to Framlin’am-on-Sea, An’ ’twas Fair-day come to-morrow, an’ the time was after tea, An’ I met a painted caravan adown a dusty lane, A Pharaoh with his waggons comin’ jolt an’ creak an’ strain; A cheery cove an’ sunburnt, bold o’ eye and wrinkled up, An’ beside him on the splashboard sat a brindled tarrier pup, An’ a lurcher wise as Solomon an’ lean as fiddle-strings Was joggin’ in the dust along ‘is roundabouts and swings. ‘Goo’-day,’ said ‘e; ‘Goo’-day,’ said I; ‘an’ ‘ow d’you find things go, An’ what’s the chance o’ millions when you runs a travellin’ show?’ ‘I find,’ said ‘e, ‘things very much as ‘ow I’ve always found, For mostly they goes up and down or else goes round and round.’ Said ‘e, ‘The job’s the very spit o’ what it always were, It’s bread and bacon mostly when the dog don’t catch a ‘are; But lookin’ at it broad, an’ while it ain’t no merchant king’s, What’s lost upon the roundabouts we pulls up on the swings!’ ‘Goo’ luck,’ said ‘e; ‘Goo’ luck,’ said I; ‘you’ve put it past a doubt; An’ keep that lurcher on the road, the gamekeepers is out;’ ‘E thumped upon the footboard an’ ‘e lumbered on again To meet a gold-dust sunset down the owl-light in the lane; An’ the moon she climbed the ‘azels, while a night-jar seemed to spin That Pharaoh’s wisdom o’er again, ‘is sooth of lose-and-win; For ‘up an’ down an’ round,’ said ‘e, ‘goes all appointed things, An’ losses on the roundabouts means profits on the swings!’
Thank you for sharing this.
You're very welcome, I'm glad you enjoyed it.
My old teacher back in 60's a very decent one at that Mr Raven.
Do you mind me asking what school that was? I'm trying to compile as much biographical information about his as I can. If you had any thoughts or anecdotes about him I'd definitely be interested in hearing them!
@@StaffordshireHiraeth Etheridge County Secondary Bilston. The school was knocked down when the Black Country route was built. Jon taught us poetry and music I still remember some of them. He was a decent guy outside the classroom and always liked to talk about the local area but inside a disciplinarian some may not have got on to well with him but the majority did. My parents kept the Pipe Hall hotel in Bilston and he came to our folk club there once, greeted me with hello young Jonesy what are you doing here, told him I lived there. As I said a decent guy. I left school 1964 the year Jon started there.
@@oldhippiejon Thank you very much that's so interesting to hear. I wonder if he was teaching you some of the folk songs he was researching at the time.
Hope you don't mind but this was one of the poems Jon taught which he was keen on.
It was early last September nigh to Framlin’am-on-Sea,
An’ ’twas Fair-day come to-morrow, an’ the time was after tea,
An’ I met a painted caravan adown a dusty lane,
A Pharaoh with his waggons comin’ jolt an’ creak an’ strain;
A cheery cove an’ sunburnt, bold o’ eye and wrinkled up,
An’ beside him on the splashboard sat a brindled tarrier pup,
An’ a lurcher wise as Solomon an’ lean as fiddle-strings
Was joggin’ in the dust along ‘is roundabouts and swings.
‘Goo’-day,’ said ‘e; ‘Goo’-day,’ said I; ‘an’ ‘ow d’you find things go,
An’ what’s the chance o’ millions when you runs a travellin’ show?’
‘I find,’ said ‘e, ‘things very much as ‘ow I’ve always found,
For mostly they goes up and down or else goes round and round.’
Said ‘e, ‘The job’s the very spit o’ what it always were,
It’s bread and bacon mostly when the dog don’t catch a ‘are;
But lookin’ at it broad, an’ while it ain’t no merchant king’s,
What’s lost upon the roundabouts we pulls up on the swings!’
‘Goo’ luck,’ said ‘e; ‘Goo’ luck,’ said I; ‘you’ve put it past a doubt;
An’ keep that lurcher on the road, the gamekeepers is out;’
‘E thumped upon the footboard an’ ‘e lumbered on again
To meet a gold-dust sunset down the owl-light in the lane;
An’ the moon she climbed the ‘azels, while a night-jar seemed to spin
That Pharaoh’s wisdom o’er again, ‘is sooth of lose-and-win;
For ‘up an’ down an’ round,’ said ‘e, ‘goes all appointed things,
An’ losses on the roundabouts means profits on the swings!’