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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
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.
Donny, Ponty or Cass,
but me I’m ’appy ’ere at Bridlington,
walking on t’ sands wi’ mi lass.
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.
Oh! I know it were founded on steel –
but I love it in bright bracin’ Bridlington
where t’ seagulls circle an’ wheel.
’cos there’s thousands millin’ about
while here on t’edge of the Wolds
there’s room for us all wi’out doubt.
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’ yer pondering on disposin’ o’ me,
just think on and do us a favour
and bury me where I can hear t’ sea.
The Bridlington U3A
by
Joan Saxby
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
winter,
the balmy summer sun,
Sewerby Park in springtime,
and the fair’s autumnal fun.
The Priory’s bells on
Sunday,
the foggy harbour’s horn,
bright white seagulls against an azure sky,
and the pink of early morn.
A Notarianni ice cream,
the taste of fish and chips,
the speedboat racing across the Bay
and sea spray salt on lips.
Though all these things
are lovely,
it’s true when each day ends,
the one thing with which we all agree:
Bridlington’s full of friends.
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
A quiet
countryside of white,
A
peaceful, tranquil, lovely sight.
Symphony by Anne Mullender
Nightdress lengthens
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
into a
frenzied finale.
Gatherers Go Agathering
by Marjorie Major
Flamborough 1930s
It’s old and battered the bow shaped pram.
Dragged from the shed, there’s use for it still.
Time to gather free fuel whilst we can
for winter is coming and ‘Stickings’ begin.
Mum and kids trudge to the sea-shore
Gathering jetsam and piling it high.
‘First foot on’ is an old village law
Never to plunder another’s wood pile.
All is gathered that is useful to burn.
Sea-coal abounds when an ‘Easterly’ blows;
From an undersea seam, two miles off the shore,
It churns up the sea-bed and extracts the coal.
The family all bend willing hands to the task
And haul the full pram to the top of the slope.
Dada is home with a very good catch
And there’s lobster for tea as they’d hoped.
The fire burns bright with the sea-coal.
‘Better by ’alf than yon Coal -mans muck,’ sez Gran,
Tha gets waarmed a gathering it oop,
and kept waarm watching it bonn’
Shadows dance on the cottage walls
All are cosy and warm within
Dada reaches for the Good Book
‘Well now,’ says he, ‘let us begin.’
Our Bridlington U3A by Jim McGonigle
When people come to Bridlington
They gaze out on the bay
And when they look to Flamboro’ Head
It takes their breath away
But when we came to Bridlington
In the merry month of May
We went to a library
And joined the U3A.
From those small beginnings
The group has grown and grown
And with four hundred people
You’ll never be alone
There are lots of new friends
To help you on your way
See a different Bridlington
Since you joined the U3A.
So if you haven’t found a group
That you would like to join
There must be one to suit you
If not just toss a coin
So have you changed your lifestyle?
Well only you can say
But it’s happy days in Bridlington
And our local U3A.
More poetry here