Bramley Band 
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Bramley Band


Who hesn't heerd o't' Bramla Band
That's famous far an' near?
An wins sich honor for aar taan,
Wi' ivvery cummin year.
At Gala, Feast, an' flaar strew,
At Chris'mas, an' May-Day,
At contests tew, aar Band is suar
To carry t'prize away.

Wi' bran new clothes an instruments,
All shining bright an' clear.
An' lads an' lasses craadin' raand.
The big drum int' rear.
The men all marching breast to breast -
Wi martial stride an' pomp -
Who can withstand thur stirrin' strains.
As daan't taan they tromp!

Naah wether t'Band chaps played too mich
(For trumpets didn't rust)
I cannot say, but suar enif
They blew em till they bust.
T'poor chaps wor almost fit to roar.
For all thur brass wor spent.
But t' Taan clubbed up an bout each man
A bran' new instrument.

Sum wor silver, an' sum wor brass.
An' nicely curled i't' middle.
An' sum they went - Trom! Trom! Born! Born!
An' sum did now't but twiddle.
An' sum hed keys, an' hoils an' lids.
An' won, a queer consarn
Wor two yards long, or theer abaat.
An' slotted up an' daan.

But when they played 'em all at wunce
An' mixed 'em weel together
An' when the chap unpon T'big drum
Thum! 'Mum! began ta leather
T'effect wor rayther startlin'
And a Captain from the Wars
Enlisted 'em as soudgers,
In the "Prince of Wales Huzzars".

Nay, sum hed nivver ridden a hoss
Except at Bramla Tide
An them wor'on't willy-gigs.
They'ed a haupn'ny ride:
So when thur Regimentals com'
An' they began ta don,
They cuddn't tell what t'spurs wor for
Unless ta hod 'em on.

They thowt if they wor fastened right
Ta t'horse they'd somehow stick,
An' then they cuddn't be thrawn off,
If it began to kick.
So off they went full trot ta York.
Though nearly tosst ta jelly -
They stuck ta t'pummils, an' kep'thur spurs
Weel under t'horse's belly.

An' when they gat ta t'city walls
They pooll'd up in a raw.
An' "See the conquering hero comes"
They all began ta blaw.
An' varry weel they played it tew
When t'horses did't prance.
But when they heerd a lively bit
They seemed abaat ta dance.

At last that chap wi't'slotting thing
Wi' cheeks puff'd fit ta crack
He thrust it aat sa varry far
He cuddn't pull it back.
An' t'horse bein' rayther freeten'd tew
An' feelin summat prickin'
It started off a raumin' up
An' then began a kickin'.

First t'instrument flew onto t'graand
An jingled fit-ta-breck.
Then we wor fotched all on a lump
Reight on ta t'horses neck.
But t'warst of all, a spur cam off
At t'chap being' aat a plumb
T'horse sent him flying like a shot
Heeard first into t'big drum.

They pooll'd him aat bi his coit-tail
An' sum began to chaff.
But t'chap wor suar,
He'd ne'er been thrawn
If t'spur hed nut cum off
So, reader, nivver use a thing
Ye dunnett understand
An' if yer tempted so to dew
Remember t'Bramla' Band.

The lilting tunes of Bramley Band
No longer fill the air
Their fame was here for all to see
And known both far and near
Their exploits and their exhibits
Were always in demand
They traversed far, and countrywide
To corners of the land.
The many tales that they could tell
If they were only here
But, oh, alas, their unsung songs
We now will never hear.
'Poet and Peasant' 'Hail smiling Morn'
Are just to name but two
Of many favourite pieces played
These talented men could do.
As we think back of days gone by
Of this our Bramley Band
Our minds will conjure up for us
A Spectacle, oh so grand
At Whitsuntide and Carnivals
On Sunday afternoons
With every grand occasion
We see these men anew
Who blew their horns, banged their drums
Their cymbals rang to greet
These men most famed in uniforms
With happy marching feet.
And so we now this tribute pay
As after five decades
To the memory of the Bramley Band
And hope it never fades.
But then who knows what we may see
Some day in the near future
Another Bramley Band may start
And fill us full of rapture

Mabel Birley