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Wrekin (The Welsh Marches Line) – demo

I’ve linked to this song before elsewhere, but as I’ve added quite a lot of background info this time, I thought it was worth a post of its own. And it suddenly struck me that if it was worth posting on my Cornish blog, it probably merited a post on my Shropshire blogs.

Wrekin (The Marches Line) (words & music by David Harley)

The Abbey watches my train crawling Southwards
Thoughts of Cadfael kneeling in his cell
All along the Marches line, myth and history
Prose and rhyme
But these are tales I won’t be here to tell

The hill is crouching like a cat at play
Its beacon flashing red across the plain
Once we were all friends around the Wrekin
But some will never pass this way again

Lawley and Caradoc fill my window
Facing down the Long Mynd, lost in rain
But I’m weighed down with the creaks and groans
Of all the years I’ve known
And I don’t think I’ll walk these hills again

Stokesay dreams its humble glories
Stories that will never come again
Across the Shropshire hills
The rain is blowing still
But the Marcher Lords won’t ride this way again

The royal ghosts of Catherine and Arthur
May walk the paths of Whitcliffe now and then
Housman’s ashes grace
The Cathedral of the Marches
He will not walk Ludlow’s streets again

The hill is crouching like a cat at play
Its beacon flashing red across the plain
Once we were all friends around the Wrekin
But some will never pass this way again
And I may never pass this way again

‘The Abbey’ is actually Shrewsbury’s Abbey Church: not much else of the Abbey survived the Dissolution and Telford’s roadbuilding in 1836. Cadfael is the fictional monk/detective whose home was the Abbey around 1135-45, according to the novels by ‘Ellis Peters’ (Edith Pargeter).

The Welsh Marches Line runs from Newport (the one in Gwent) to Shrewsbury. Or, arguably, up as far as Crewe, since it follows the March of Wales from which it takes its name, the buffer zone between the Welsh principalities and the English monarchy which extended well into present-day Cheshire.

‘The hill’ is the Wrekin, which, though at a little over 400 metres high is smaller than many of the other Shropshire Hills, is isolated enough from the others to dominate the Shropshire Plain. The beacon is at the top of the Wrekin Transmitting Station mast, though a beacon was first erected there during WWII. The Shropshire toast ‘All friends around the Wrekin’ seems to have been recorded first in the dedication of George Farquar’s 1706 play ‘The Recruiting Officer’, set in Shrewsbury.

‘Lawley’ refers to the hill rather than the township in Telford. The Lawley and Caer Caradoc do indeed dominate the landscape on the East side of the Stretton Gap coming towards Church Stretton from the North via the Marches Line or the A49, while the Long Mynd (‘Long Mountain’) pretty much owns the Western side of the Gap.

Stokesay Castle, near Craven Arms, is technically a fortified manor house rather than a true castle. It was built in the late 13th century by the wool merchant Laurence of Ludlow, and has been extensively restored in recent years by English Heritage, who suggest that the lightness of its fortification might actually have been intentional, to avoid presenting any threat to the established Marcher Lords.

Prince Arthur, elder brother of Henry VIII, was sent with his bride Catherine of Aragon to Ludlow administer the Council of Wales and the Marches, and died there after only a few months. Catherine went on to marry and be divorced by Henry VIII, and died about 30 years later at Kimbolton Castle. Catherine is reputed to haunt Kimbolton, so it’s unlikely that she also haunts Whitcliffe, the other side of the Teme from Ludlow Castle. (As far as I know, no-one is claimed to haunt Whitcliffe. Poetic licence…)

For some time it has puzzled me that in ‘A Ballad for Catherine of Aragon’, Charles Causley refers to her as “…a Queen of 24…” until I realized he was probably referring not to her age, but to the length of time that she was acknowledged to be Queen of England.

The ashes of A.E. Housman are indeed buried in the grounds of St. Laurence’s church, Ludlow, which is not in fact a cathedral, but is often referred to as ‘the Cathedral of the Marches’. It is indeed a church with many fine features (I have about a zillion photographs of its misericords) and its tower is visible from a considerable distance (and plays a major part in Housman’s poem ‘The Recruit’).

The song was actually mostly written on a train between Shrewsbury and Newport at a time when I was frequently commuting between Shropshire and Cornwall to visit my frail 94-year-old mother, who died a few months after, so it has particular resonance for me. It originally included a couple of extra verses about Hereford and the Vale of Usk, but after the ‘Wrekin’ chorus forced its way into the song, I decided to restrict it to the Shropshire-related verses. Maybe they’ll turn up sometime as another song.

David Harley

The Good Old Days


By courtesy of Shropshire historian and author David Trumper (an old – in the nicest sense of the word! – friend from the days of Shrewsbury folk club), here’s a photo of the ceilidh band Haywain that certainly rang bells for me.


Tom Dunn on fiddle, Jo Dunn on accordion, Dave Evans on concertina, Phil Pritchard on drums, Graham Higson on guitar. Jo and I shared a flat for a while in the early 70s, but I was never a member of Haywain. I do have a faint recollection of a gig or two playing bass with Merrion Wood (a very proficient banjoist and no mean fiddle/mandolin player, as I remember from working with him as a duo) in a spin-off band called Chuckwagon.

As far as I know, Jo, Graham and Merrion are still around and gigging: I’ve seen Merrion and Graham around a few times recently with guitarist Bob…

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A Pleasant Spot

There are so many potential puns here, I’m finding it hard to restrain myself.

I can’t resist pointing out that this house isn’t, in fact, in Dalmatia, it’s in Bishop’s Castle. Well, this is a site focused on Shropshire…

a nice spot

David Harley
Small Blue-Green World

Industrial archaeology…

…as engaged in by sheep on Titterstone Clee Hill.


The Clee hills are the highest hills on the English side of the Marches, and while they don’t get the attention now that the Wrekin or the Stretton hills do, they have a significant part to play in the industrial history of Shropshire. Their sandstone deposits have yielded coal, copper, iron and limestone, while their distinctive shapes are largely due to a basalt capping. While there is still some Dhu Stone (dolerite, a coarse basalt – dhu is Welsh for black) quarried near the village of Cleehill for road covering, industry on the Clees has otherwise been and gone, but has left a permanent mark on the landscape, not only in the remains of buildings but in the way the land itself has been changed by quarrying and the steep inclined planes built for tramway access. On Titterstone Clee, the combination of the partly man-made landscape and the presence of the NATS and Met Office radar domes have an almost lunar appearance. It seems custom-made for an episode of Dr. Who.


Here are some less conspicuous remnants to be seen on Titterstone Clee.




David Harley
Small Blue-Green World
ESET Senior Research Fellow