My name is John Lloyd and I sail on the river From Shrewsbury to Worcester and ports far beyond My home is in Jackfield alongside The Severn It's all that I've known and the water's my bond A bargeman by trade my cargo's pig iron Produced by the furnaces in old Coalbrookdale It's hard work with long hours and the payment is little And it's usually spent on strong beer and good ale. In The Black Horse at Arley I made the acquaintance Of sweet Eliza Newnham the landlord's fair lass We spent time together 'til I had to leave her But I said I would visit when next I did pass You have to be careful when you're looking for loving Edward Lloyd was pick-pocketed in a Worcester whorehouse And Tom who's from Broseley got a case of the venereal I don't fancy his chances with his long suffering spouse. I was woken one morning at my home down in Jackfield By a-knocking and banging, my doorstep defiled By young Eliza Newnham who brazenly stood there Demanding I marry her because she's with child I politely refused but her father he summonsed me To Hereford Court Assizes where he'd put in a claim It cost me five pounds for the expense of confinement And despoiling his daughter and ruining her name So all you bold Watermen from me take a lesson When plying the river I'll have you take care And when you're enjoying your nights of fine passion Watch out for her father, he'll have you I swear. Oh my name is John Lloyd and I sail on the river From Shrewsbury to Worcester and ports far beyond My home is in Jackfield alongside The Severn It's all that I've known and the water's my bond

Geologists say it's just lava and ash But we know that's not true so that myth we must dash Come all and sit down and the truth I will tell Concerning The Wrekin and Ercall as well. A wicked Welsh giant had made some demands For Shrewsbury girls to be sent his lands Unbeknown by the townsfolk he treated them sore But one girl escaped and she fled through the door She made it back home and her plight did relate So no more young maidens were sent to their fate This giant was furious and vowed he’d go down And block up The Severn, thus flooding the town So early next morning his plans they were laid And he scooped up a large clod of earth with his spade Then set off a-walking, but took the wrong routes So he sat by the roadside to scrape off his boots Along came a cobbler on his shoulder a sack Full of shoes for repairing when to home he got back “Tell me how far to Shrewsbury?” the giant he cried “And what will you do there?” the cobbler replied “I’ve a lesson to teach them, they’ve all let me down So I’m damming the Severn to flood out the town" The quick witted cobbler saw this couldn’t be So replied “At least two days, perhaps even three" “You see all these shoes I’ve got here in my sack Well I’ve worn them all out in the time I’ve walked back To my home here in Wellington, so take it from me It’s an awful long way from here to Shrewsbury" Well the giant he pondered and then he did say “Well I only allowed to get there in one day" The cobbler he smiled for the tale he had told Caused the giant to tire of his wearisome load So the giant he tipped all the soil from his spade And that’s now the Wrekin, that’s how it was made And alongside, The Ercall still sits there compliant Just the scrapings of mud from the boots of the giant So here’s to the cobbler, lets raise him a toast He saved Shrewsbury from drowning when they needed him most And as for the giant, well he went back to Wales And was never more heard of except in folk tales! When you climb The Wrekin through Heaven and Hell’s Gate Think what might have happened had the cobbler been late Or if the giant had walked the right path Well the people of Shrewsbury would have taken a bath.

Coracles round with green ash ribs are bound Stringers and seat must be fashioned so neat Calico wrapped with folds pleated and tacked And a thick bitumen coat waterproofs the fine boat. Dibo and Harry learnt the skills from their old father Tom And kept up the tradition when their father he passed on Then Eustace, who was Harry's son, joined the coracle makers ranks And continued with the ancient art upon the Severn's banks For the Rogers men of Ironbridge the Severn was their home And while most men on land were found on water they did roam They knew the vicious under - currents, each shallow, depth and eddy And if you ever floundered there, you'd find them ever ready Tommy saved eight lives in all, but was also known for poaching You'd often see him heading off when night it was approaching With his trusty gang of local men, all crafty artful dodgers Like pirates on the river you will find the jolly Rogers! The policemen by the Severn in the twilight shadows stand They hope to catch the poachers as they bring their catch to land They're thinking that they know them well, the places they will be But they will be kept in the dark, the night's work they'll not see Bunkers and Fursley on the bank distract the policeman so That Tommy in his coracle can ride the river's flow A rewarding evening's poaching and with fifty rabbits stowed He'll keep on down to Jackfield, find a safe place to unload The memories they will long live on, it's what they all deserved A wooden shed down by the bridge, their heritage preserved And perhaps one day the witch will fly across the gorge again A memory of the playfulness and humour of the men. Coracles round with green ash ribs are bound Stringers and seat must be fashioned so neat Calico wrapped with folds pleated and tacked And a thick bitumen coat waterproofs the fine boat.

CHORUS: The Coalport Dodger works the track, rides up and down the line Just hear that Jinty working hard, will it be here on time The Coalport Dodger works the track, rides up and down the line Just hear that Jinty working hard, will it be here on time? The sloping track from Coalport it's a gradient one in three It's hard work for the engine as it climbs up through the trees Like thunder rumbling through the hills it chugs along the rails And you can hear it miles away, it's whistle shouts and wails The glowing fire is almost white inside the firebox hole As furiously the fireman shovels in great piles of coal CHORUS: The Coalport Dodger . . . At Madeley Market station we are waiting for the train But it looks as if our waiting here might well have been in vain For we've just seen a bus pull up, it is a Midland Red And Stationmaster Mott says that today it's that instead The Dodger is not coming, it's held up at Blesser's Hill The tunnel's blocked, it can't get past, the train is standing still CHORUS: The Coalport Dodger . . . Bert Tyler found the blockage that's now holding up the train And the reason for him finding it we'd better now explain That on his way to Kemberton, a miner was this man He took a shortcut up the line before the first train ran Five pounds reward was given to Bert, which suited him just fine And then they went and told him off for trespass on the line CHORUS: The Coalport Dodger . . . It's common practice if someone has not arrived on time For the train to wait a bit for locals down the line A quick head count will soon reveal they're missing one or two And a loud ‘toot’ on the whistle's made to give them all clue That at the station waits the train, we’ll hang on for a while And if we're lucky we might see the first four minute mile. CHORUS: The Coalport Dodger . . . And when the sun's high in the sky with days no longer short Those in the know all climb aboard and head off to Coal - port The Swinney bank it draws them down beside the River Severn They paddle and they picnic on the banks, they're all in heaven Then back on-board the Dodger to our homes in Malinslee And Oakengates and Wellington and Madeley and Stirchley. CHORUS: The Coalport Dodger . . . The final train for passengers was nineteen fifty two 'Twas on the thirty first of May the final whistle blew A goods train once a day still ran along the iron way But only for a few short years 'til it had had it's day In nineteen sixty half the route was closed for ever more And total closure came about in nineteen sixty four. CHORUS: The Coalport Dodger . . . Now as you walk or ride your bike when you're out for the day Please enjoy the peaceful trail along the Silkin Way But stop a while and think about the men who's graft and toil With only picks and shovels shifted many tons of soil To cut through all the obstacles so that the train could run From the valley down in Coalport to the town of Wellington CHORUS: The Coalport Dodger . . .

At Halston Hall in Shropshire, the Master had a son The year was seventeen ninety six, the boy was christened John When he was two his father died, inheritance to him came But education was required, Westminster School by name But fighting with a master there was not perceived correct So Harrow School took on the lad, but soon did him eject And as his nickname he acquired: 'Mad Jack' from Halston Hall Two thousand bottles of best port, he took to Cambridge Halls At twenty one, the money his, he set off on a spree And quickly he worked through the lot with passion and with glee To be MP was his next jaunt, ten pounds to bribe all near But politics they bored him so he resigned within the year He rode a bear through his drawing room, hunted naked in the wood Dressed cats and dogs in livery, Champagne and steak their food His favourite horse called Baronet had free reign of the house 'Twould lie beside the fire with Jack as quiet as a mouse Four horse gigs he drove at speed and tested them to see If a horse pulled carriage could jump a gate: quite unsuccessfully! He downed eight bottles of Port each day and his own dogs did bite Ate hazelnuts at formal meals and hunted ducks at night But soon his money it was gone, to France he did retire And trying to cure his hiccups there set his nightshirt on fire! But life in France was not for him, to England he came back But unable to pay his debts he was sent to Southwark Where at the King's Bench Prison there, they locked him up inside And in the year of thirty four, Mad Jack Mytton died. In debtor's prison he met his end, that was to be his fate A broken wretched foolish man, he died aged thirty eight.

I'm home from school, there's chores to do, there's never time for play Perhaps if I can get them done I'll have some time today I help my father milk the cows then cans and measures found It's off I go come rain or shine upon my nightly round Round Gravel Leasows and up The Finney, down The Stocking Lane It's past The Spout to Burroughs Bank and then back home again The Clarkes, the Boycotts, Humphrey Plant, the Yapps, the Skeltons too Would like to get their pint of milk before the evening's through A noise from field behind the hedge, so dark I cannot see I rattle cans and spill some milk and quickly onward flee Then Mrs Davies scowls at me as pint of milk I measure And with tongue sharp she soon points out her reason for displeasure “Where's the blessing Lizzie dear? You haven't put me any” Another splash soon satisfies and she gives me a penny. Now chores are done, just one more task it's to The Hammer pub I have to fetch the sup - per beer before I get my grub Then off to sleep and in the morn it's wash the kitchen floor Feed the chickens and the pigs then off to school once more. Another day, I'm home from school and still the chores they come Perhaps one day I'll get away, until then - let's get on.

Down Lane Pit as usual another working day The dust as always in our lungs we work hard for our pay When underground we're grafting hard with candle flame for light It's sweat and toil for twelve long hours and the ceiling's two foot high The shift it ends, it's to the shaft our passage to the sun Back home to see our families now the day's work it is done The doubles ready we start up, nine on the hoops, hold tight! Although for eight is was designed the young boys were quite light And suddenly the hook it broke, the winding chain went slack Impossible we could survive, we plunged into the black. Three hundred sixty feet we'd passed,that's higher than Big Ben The nine of us hurled down the shaft, it's death for boys and men. The six inch planks above the sump, our bodies splintered these And thirteen feet of water there we plunged into with ease The twenty seventh of September eighteen sixty four Our mutilated bodies lay, we'd never work no more. The inquest held, accidental death was how the verdict came The chains and all equipment good, we're not sure who's to blame October the first we were carried down to St Michael's Church, Madeley Four hundred miners walked with us and one hundred family And as our coffins lined the aisle Dead March from Saul was played Then side by side in communal grave we men and boys were laid And cast iron covers over us, Reverend Yate he did us proud. So many people said goodbye, two thousand plus we're told Remember us who lie below: Edward Wallett , John Tranter Benjamin Davies, Joseph Maiden, fourteen year old John Farr And William Jarratt, Francis Cookson and another boy John Jones And finally, there by our side twelve year old William Owens* Down Lane Pit as usual another working day The dust as always in our lungs we work hard for our pay When underground we grafted long it's where we made our mark And now our ghosts all linger there down in the damp and dark. *It is with sincere apologies that I admit to naming William wrongly. His surname was in fact Onions, not Owens.

Chorus: Carpenter's, Tea Kettle, Charity Row These houses were built by the Darbys you know Carpenter's, Tea Kettle, Charity Row These houses were built by the Darbys you know We don't have a tap in our home, that's for sure And with men at work it's the housewife's chore To fetch all the water required for the day So to Bathwell Pumps we will all make our way Chorus: Carpenter's, TeamKettle, Charity Row . . . Then it's off to the brewhouse, our tasks for the day Are washing and scrubbing and starching a way And while we all gossip we brew up the beer For it's safer to drink that than water round here. Chorus: Carpenter's, TeamKettle, Charity Row . . . The houses are small but they're fit for our needs And a garden provides us with food grown from seeds We don't have a toilet, it's candles for light But we pay a fair rent for this homely delight Chorus: Carpenter's, TeamKettle, Charity Row . . . From six in the morning 'till six in the eve The men work at furnace and forge without leave Then in the evening the next shift goes on For twelve more long hours 'till night it is done Chorus: Carpenter's, TeamKettle, Charity Row . . . The Coalbrookdale Company's built a new school That educates boys with the slate and the rule Slag cools on the Coke Hearth and gives off good heat And bakes our potatoes, a regular treat Chorus: Carpenter's, TeamKettle, Charity Row . . . The Darbys all care for us, somebody shouts But our sweat lines their pockets of that there's no doubt But we're much better off than a lot we do say We've a home and a job and there's regular pay Chorus: Carpenter's, TeamKettle, Charity Row . . .

Judge Leighton was a powerful man as Chief Justice for Wales A reputation he had built, he was as hard as nails No leniency would he hand out, it never would be done A hanging judge he was know as, it was his rule of thumb His home at Plash Hall Cardington was built of local stone Not quite befitting of the man who's status was well know In fifteen twenty he began to plan refurbishment A house of Tudor brick was built, a fine establishment The house was nearing topping out, fine chimneys it would need Sir William has a stroke of luck when before him came to plead A man condemned, a bricklayer who was extremely skilled Sir William said he'd pardon him if chimneys he would build This man could not believe his luck, his pardon would not shirk And elegant zig-zag, diamond stacks rose up from the leadwork The finest chimneys in the land, the people stood transfixed At the way this master tradesman used the soft red tudor bricks The judge though pleased he was concerned that he would start a run Of people seeking pardons when it just could not be done, He did not wish to start a trait of sentences reduced So he devised an evil scheme to have the builder noosed A rope tied round the chimney pots with hangman's knot well made And from the very end of it the master builder swayed The chimneys to this day bleed blood, and to put fear in your heart A ghostly rope taps at the pane to wake you with a start When renovations on the house took place in later years It's said a skeleton was found that answered people's fears Rope remains around the neck in tatters they were strung Was this the master builder who those years ago had hung? Judge Leighton was a powerful man as Chief Justice for Wales A reputation he had built, he was as hard as nails No leniency would he hand out, it never would be done A hanging judge he was know as, it was his rule of thumb

Those blushing pink giants how proudly they stand The colour designed to blend in with the land They sit there content giving off clouds of steam Four bold concrete structures in sunlight they gleam In the year sixty three the foundations were laid Despite the objections and challenges made The towers and the chimney rose into the sky Reaching two hundred and five metres high* And the grand turbine hall at the heart of the site Held two generators of power and might And the Severn, it's water how freely it gives The fire it heats up and the great turbine lives The coal train it travels by day and by night Coal's needed to feed the turbine's appetite In the 'Dale o'er the viaduct slowly it goes And crosses Albert Edward Bridge where the Severn it flows The environment's precious, there have to be rules To stop us from using the old fossil fuels So coal fired power stations were not all that good Directives insisted they start to burn wood Pollution in the Gorge it has now had it's day Two thousand and fifteen, it saw us all say Goodbye to the plant and goodbye to it's power The moment has past, it has had it's fine hour “Please don't knock them down now” the locals all cry Those towering pink monuments rising up high Familiar landmarks we can spot from afar When we're driving back home in our fine motor car. Those blushing pink giants how proudly they stand The colour designed to blend in with the land For forty six years they gave off clouds of steam Those bold concrete structures in sunlight still gleam *It was the chimney that was two hundred and five metres high, not the cooling towers as was rightly pointed out by someone who heard the song. It should be pointed out that when I wrote this song the cooling towers were still standing. They were demolished on 6th December 2019.

A quiet night down in The Boat Some men were playing cards When through the door a stranger came They nodded their regards And kindly they invited him To join them at the table The man sat down and took a hand At winning seemed quite able One of the men he caught his pipe It fell unto the floor When bending down to pick it up Was shocked by what he saw The stranger's feet did not look right And seeking further proof He got his friend to take a look They saw a cloven hoof Denouncing the Devil they all stood up Old Nick he swiftly fled But one man thought he'd come for him And col - lapsed and fell down dead When sitting at the table there You may have sensed a breeze And put it down to this old pub As it whistled round your knees And to the door you may have glanced To see if it's ajar But it's the ghost of that dead man Just passing by the bar

A boy and girl ran round the streets and up the narrow lanes Young William pretended he was the horse and Charlotte held the reins But tiring of this Charlotte cried, "Let's play at hide and seek Go over there and count to ten and make sure you don't peek" Chorus: It's just a game of hide and seek, no harm can them befall But Charlotte and young William are now hiding from us all. Charlotte she then ran off to hide until by William found And for a while they played like that before they swapped around Young William, he went off to hide but rain started to pour So they ran home to Magpie House and went in through the door Chorus: It's just a game of hide and seek . . . They went down to the cellar there to play their game inside The casks and kegs of beer down there made great places to hide But unbeknown to anyone, for no-one saw them go, Someone locked the door above as they hid down below Chorus: It's just a game of hide and seek . . . Because the rain did not abate the Severn it did rise A flash flood filled the cellar up before their very eyes So those two children lost their lives beneath the Severn's swirl And loving parents lost their boy and precious little girl Chorus: It's just a game of hide and seek . . . To ease their grief they did erect two statues of the pair And if you walk the gardens now you're sure to see them there But images of marble can't replace the flesh and blood Or ease a grieving mother's heart for children lost to flood Chorus: It's just a game of hide and seek . . . If you go down the Cartway on a dark and chilly night Soft whimpering you may just hear - the grieving mother's plight. Unable to contain her loss the Black Lady's still there A-weeping and a-wailing and a-tearing of her hair. Chorus: It's just a game of hide and seek . . .

Old Nellie's hens were doing well So listen to this tale I tell It's off to market she did go with baskets laden, eggs to show Sit back and watch the money grow Refrain: Sit back and watch the money grow The sun it shone, the eggs all sold It was a great day to behold The heat and dust had dried her throat She fancied she could spare a groat The Bull's Head did fine beer promote Refrain: The Bull's Head did fine beer promote So in she went, soon first one gone She ordered up a second one With all her friends the time did fly But all the talk soon made her dry The remedy was quite close by. Refrain: The remedy was quite close by. No money left from pub she staggered And looking just a little haggard Into churchyard gently swayed Where market nights she'd often stayed And under a big slab she laid Refrain: And under a big slab she laid A group of lads from ale house spill With jug of beer and time to kill And to the churchyard make their way To find a seat, but to her dismay They chose the slab where Nellie lay Refrain: They chose the slab where Nellie lay She lay there quiet as jug they passed And laughed and chatted 'til at last One of the lads said with a wink “We should offer this good man a drink” And against the slab the jug he chinked Refrain: And against the slab the jug he chinked A wizened hand came from the ground And for the jug it felt around The five lads soon leapt to their feet And turned as white as any sheet And quickly ran off down the street Refrain: And quickly ran off down the street Back home to Clive the revellers sped Their supernatural tale soon spread Her version Nellie told with glee The lads soon heard her repartee A long time 'til in Wem they'd be! Refrain: A long time 'til in Wem they'd be! If on my theme I rightly think There are five reasons why men drink Good wine, a friend, because I'm dry Or else I should be by and by, Or any other reason why.* Refrain: Or any other reason why. *The last verse was written by Dr Henry Aldrich (1647-1710) an English theologian and philosopher. He became Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University in 1692 and in 1702 he was appointed Rector of Wem.

Chorus: Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin keep a - way with your long chin Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin keep a - way with your long chin He was a bold knight but not quite what you think of When you think how a knight in his armour should be No riding white chargers or saving fair damsels His actions did not include much chivalry Chorus: Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin . . . A jolly bold robber with powers supernatural He replenished his youth every seventy years And he and his gang roamed the land around Wenlock And robbed anyone who came wandering too near Chorus: Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin . . . From a cave on the Edge he roamed free with his comrades He loved rape and pillage, 'twas more of his style His cave it was full of bright gold and bright silver His ill gotten gains, he'd collected a pile. Chorus: Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin . . . This man Ippikin he was seemingly unstoppable But mother nature stepped in and spoilt things for him when One night when they sheltered from some violent weather A lightening bolt struck the rock over his den Chorus: Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin . . . A great lump fell off and it blocked up the entrance Preventing the robbers from leaving their cave And stopping those villains from ever more looting The depths of the hillside became their own grave Chorus: Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin . . . When on Wenlock Edge and stood there by the rock face This murderous knight's still about I will pledge And if you recite the short poem I've taught you He'll rush out and push you right over the edge Chorus: Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin . . . Now Ippikin's Rock it still has a reminder An imprint of a gold chain that he used to wear But I think it more likely that it's just a fossil Left over from times when the sea it was there. Chorus: Ip - pi - kin, Ip - pi - kin . . .