The first verses and chorus of this song were written at the time of my father’s death, some of it as I sat by his bedside, some as I walked beside the River Usk in Brecon a few hours later. (If you are interested you can read my version of those events here.) The people named are his brother Don, sister’s Joyce, Joan, Hilda and May, mother Laura, father Charles, and wife Mary.
The rest of the song followed quite quickly, apart from the usual tweaks and alterations that happened during the recording, a few months later. As well as the sadness of the death and its impact on me, I wanted to capture the joy of nostalgia – stories and memories of his life, both his own early memories, and some of my later ones. The river Nene runs through Wisbech, where Dad lived for almost 80 years. As a child he lived right on the riverbank but the river featured throughout his whole life and was the obvious place for his ashes.
Writing songs is clearly how I deal with things – I wrote two when my mum died … ‘Do you still walk?’ and ‘Before time‘.
A child of Wisbech in the war
Stories of the old town and how it was before
Name and places, and people that I wish I’d known
Your brother Don, your sisters, Joyce and Joan
Wheel the barrow to the factory gate
Charlie Westhorpe’s working late
It’s strawberry season, hammer down the iron bands
Barrels made with craftsmans eye, your father’s strong hands
But time flows faster than the River Nene
To wash away the past and all the things that you have seen
And after Hilda, after May
The last of Laura’s children died today
You were a genius with a piece of wood
Take it, shape it, make it into something good
A shelf, a table
Or just something to hold something while you were making something else
You were always making something
She was the best years of your life
I’m talking, of course, about Mary, your beloved wife
I see the two of you, walking arm in arm
Singing an old song, through the cobbled streets of Bergen
But time flows faster than the River Nene
Mary too, has packed her bags and gone sailing down the stream
And now, after Hilda, after May
The last of Laura’s children died today
And I thank you for the father you have been
I hold the hand of the father, and the friend that you have been
Lying here so quietly, somewhere in between
Like the turning of the tide on the River Nene
Suddenly here we are at journey’s end
I feel as if my heart will break and never mend
You said you saw her
You said that once again she was by your side
I think I knew then that she would keep you safe
And for a man who couldn’t swim, very soon, you’d be swimming with the tide
And does it all come back to the River Nene
Running through the town and through the man that you have been
And now after Hilda, and now after May
The last of Laura’s children has died today
Gerald Edward Westhorpe, better known as Mick
Has gone on his way
