23 MARCH 1996, Page 58

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COMPETITION

Houswoman

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 1924 you were invited to suppose that A.E. Housman was a woman and to provide a suitable poem from A Shropshire Lass.

Because the Housman Society, who urged me to run a competition to coincide with the centenary of the publication of A Shropshire Lad, are watching us closely, and in all fairness, I decided not to allow entries that were either anachronistic or over the top (cris de coeur from rustic les- bians were acceptable, but none of them was up to scratch).

Bad luck, therefore, to the OTT brigade — Michael Lee, Paul Griffin, Alanna Blake and Alison Hardie with her desper- ate quatrain:

And so I sit at home alone And count the days with rue.

A gloomy lot, these Shropshire lads: What is a lass to do?

The palmary prizewinners, printed below, get £20 each, and the bonus bottle of Isle of Jura Single Malt Scotch whisky goes to William Luscombe.

When 1 lie down at nightfall

I dream of distant parts Where lads are clean and faithful And break not lasses' hearts. Three times my troth I've plighted And three times I have wept. Three lads my love have slighted

With vows they.never kept.

If somewhere under heaven True honest lads are found It's not by shore of Severn Nor in the towns around; For lads here love each other, Dead friends and football teams, And girls are left with mother To dream their idle dreams.

(William Luscombe) The redcoats marched through Ludlow Town: One cocked a cheery glance, And blithely Laura laid her down After the fiddler's dance. She laid her down without annoy And gave her soldier gay A little warmth, a little joy, Before he marched away.

Now Laura sleeps by Wenlock side, And he, on foreign shore, Where hard he fought for England's pride, The bugle hears no more.

Yet one in this brief history stays To taste the parish crumb: A sturdy little lad who plays With trumpet and with drum.

(Gerard Benson) When I was young and flighty I heard my master say, `Up, lass,'tis time for milking, 'Twere best be on your way.

'The sheep are penned for shearing, The fowls must soon be fed.' But I was warm and weary And would not leave my bed.

Beyond the bells of Bredon Or water down the weirs, How sounded all my senses When Master boxed my ears!

The sheep cry in the meadows, The fowls are at the door, The cows may moan for milking, But I shall hear no more. (Annie Brooks) Farewell to kitchen, copper, cot, Farewell to childbed sore, Farewell to Eve's eternal lot - You'll see me, lad, no more.

From drunk nights without number, From quarrels without cause, I'll seek elsewhere for slumber Some softer bed than yours.

No more at cowshed, croft and stye Your thankless drudge I'll be To London College I shall hie And toil for my degree!

Oh long for me the babe may pine - But you would not be told; So sit you down, my lad, and dine, Though dinner will be cold.

(Alyson Nikiteas) Into my heart a fragrance spills Of Bredon in the spring, When life was lace and satin frills And hope a diamond ring.

But girls who vied for that last dance With Bredon's handsome swain Are spinsters now who rue the chance That cannot come again.

Into my heart the happy chat Of girls content to dream Rises from meadows where we sat As lads leaped o'er the stream. But time has greyed our girlish locks And killed the flowers we wore; The lads we teased on summer walks Will leap for us no more.

(Frank McDonald) The lads who flock to Ludlow In hundreds for the fair Will look for girls and liquor To ease the ills they bear, But I shall not be there.

In scarlet-coated splendour Lads march to save the Queen; The lasses left behind them, If death comes unforeseen, Will rue what might have been.

A lad safe home returning Consoles his lass today With promises a-plenty; He swears that he will stay, And possibly he may. (Peter Campbell)

No. 1927: One for the oldies

1927 — the year of my birth! You are invit- ed to provide a report or description by a journalist of the time, in 1927 style, of something that happened or was going on in the world at that time. Entries to `Competition No. 1927' by 4 April.