‘They come from near and far to sit upon his eye
And stand upon his back on the hill so steep and high.’ (Thomas Goodrick)
Flying out of John Hodgson’s brilliant mind,
inspired by Harrison Weir’s artistic pen,
it took Tom Taylor to land you here
in the ancient limestone
of wind-mocked Roulston Scar Cliff.
Thirty two laboured to craft you,
driven by the very Soul of Creation.
They gave you the gift of witness from this hill
and you have seen an awful lot
and are not left alone.
Your fine legs are pinned
to the side of Yorkshire
and these Tykes have mounted and whitewashed you,
drawn on you out of loneliness,
and treasured you.
The rough days have flitted across your face
and the sun caressed your back.
Lovers have tried you on for size
and the skies have opened over you.
What wars, what landscaped wounds,
have passed you by.
Soldiers of God have marched on below you:
to stop your great heart hurting,
they hid you from the Nazis,
covered up your hail-lashed feelings.
Still, we will look after you,
knowing that you live on for future boys and girls
while we turn to rubble in Kilburn churchyard,
our eyes burn out,
our pulsing hearts close.
White Yorkshire Rose
in a colourful world:
this great steed belongs to all the Universe.
I do believe that
John saw that.
And we will continue
to feed this Horse’s lovely spirit
and, through its grace,