Graeme Miles


This section is intended to be used for lyrics of Graeme Miles songs, so that Graeme's deepest wish can be honoured, that of disseminating his work to the widest possible audience of singers.  We would draw your attention to the fact that to sing a song as a floor singer in a folk club and to record, perform or broadcast for profit and gain are two entirely different issues, so if you do intend to use Graeme's works for the latter purpose, please follow the recognised route of approaching PRS for Music where all of Graeme's work is protected.

The following poem was written and sent to us by Andy Humphrey via Danni Wyndham-Read.  It is reproduced here with permission. 

For Your Eldorado

For the winter-bound forest, the snow-blasted moors,

For the Green Man who wakes them, the ferryman's oars,

For the lush banks of Grain in their splendour in spring

For the mountains where ravens feed, waterfalls spring,

for the woeful old scarecrew in rags on the farm,

for the banks of the Tees and the fair out at Yarm,

for the lost Greatham Marshes, all salted and dry,

for the Fylingdales wind that cries 'Horumarye',

for the shores of old Blighty that welcomed them home,

for the overgrown fields where their spectres now roam,

for the long march of peace, the banners, the dreams,

for the radar's cold sentry, the fighter jet's screams,

for the dove with the olive branch bound for the wars,

for the eagle of death with his cruel talon claws,

for the country lad leaving his hedgerows behind him,

for the old man of dreams and the dreamers who find him,

pernickity jackdaws with ink on their claws,

for tavern-smoked Thursdays, warm beer and applause,

for the hills and the hearths where your music's still ringing,

And for you Eldorado - keep searching, keep singing.