Bridlington U3A Mission Statement
Coming together in friendship to find joy and renewal in recreation, learning and teaching, through a vibrant, effective and inclusive local U3A supported by a community of dedicated volunteers
Bridlington U3A - Poetry Page
Poetry from Anne Mullender's Group here
Bridlington by Mike Wilson
I’ve never got ’omesick for ’Uddersfield
since I left the muck and the grime,
an’ I’m spending mi retirement in Bridlington,
where there’s plenty to do with mi time.
Some folk keep mitherin’ for Barnsley,
Donny, Ponty or Cass,
but me I’m ’appy ’ere at Bridlington,
walking on t’ sands wi’ mi lass.
Yer can keep the centre o’ Leeds
wi’ bustle and rush in the shops,
’cos there’s nowt on earth like old Brid;
for me it’s the tops for us Pops.
I mean who’d want to live back in Sheffield –
Oh! I know it were founded on steel –
but I love it in bright bracin’ Bridlington
where t’ seagulls circle an’ wheel.
I wouldn’t give yer thruppence for Bradford
’cos there’s thousands millin’ about
while here on t’edge of the Wolds
there’s room for us all wi’out doubt.
So I’m glad I’m living in Bridlington,
in peace on t’ East Yorkshire coast,
’cos to me it’s nearest to paradise;
well it’s the place that pleases me most.
An’ when I’ve died an’ passed on,
an’ yer pondering on disposin’ o’ me,
just think on and do us a favour
and bury me where I can hear t’ sea.
Come and join the U3A
Where everyone is friendly
It doesn’t matter what your age
They’ll welcome you most gladly.
You can do most anything
No-one will call you dumb
You can learn the Highland Fling
Play the cornet or euphonium.
French and German you can choose
It doesn’t matter if you stutter
Choose a language to amuse
Soon some words you’ll utter.
If you’re tired of things domestic
And you want to be more learnèd
Join a group, it’s quite fantastic
Do the thing for which you’ve yearnèd.
Be linguistic or creative
Join the Italian group, just risk it
Soon you’ll speak it like a native
You’ll love the tea and chocolate biscuit.
Fraternise and computerise,
It’s very plain to see
Come and join, you’ll soon grow wise
Thanks to modern technology.
If you think you’re old and rusting
Do not let your brain decay,
Forget the chores and all the dusting
Come and join the U3A.
What we like about Bridlington by Mike and Diane Wilson
The raw cold gales of
The Priory’s bells on
A Notarianni ice cream,
Though all these things
Winter Journey to York by Margaret Drysdale
Blow wind, blow, and drift the snow,
Sky, stay full and hide the glow,
Sunrise, dwindle, hide and go,
Do not disturb the wintry show.
Hedgerows decorate the verge,
Thorny brambles cling and surge,
Every point outlined in white,
Silhouette against the light.
Here's a canopy of trees,
Branches still, unmoved by breeze,
All is leaden, white and still,
Silent underneath the hill.
Every tussock, path, is filled,
No birds sing, their cries are stilled,
Huddled in the nest, until
They seek food, a crumb on sill.
Stately trees stand forth and show
Just which way the blizzards blow,
Pale their trunks and grey the scene,
Laced with white instead of green.
Beautiful and still the sight
Driving through a winter night,
The road a ribbon, grey and cold
Folds about the pastured wold
Around a Christmas cake of fields
Whose royal icing surges, yields
countryside of white,
Symphony by Anne Mullender
to the sound of a trombone,
purposefully pushed to its limit,
slides back as sound retreats.
Tea towels, one, two, three,
tantalise with a hint of woodwind.
Handkerchiefs ebb and flow
rippling with the piccolos.
Shirts, swelled with wind
in a cadence of violins,
billow in triumphant crescendo.
Flimsy underwear adds delicacy,
supporting piano’s pianissimo.
Sheets flap and flap again
as drums roll to cymbals’ crash.
Slowly, the breeze gathers force,
blows the whole line
Gatherers Go Agathering
by Marjorie Major
It’s old and battered the bow shaped pram.
Mum and kids trudge to the sea-shore
All is gathered that is useful to burn.
The family all bend willing hands to the task
The fire burns bright with the sea-coal.
Shadows dance on the cottage walls
Our Bridlington U3A by Jim McGonigle
When people come to Bridlington
From those small beginnings
So if you haven’t found a group
More poetry here