A Reminisce Of Old Halifax

[Mr. Clemens]

 

A REMINISCE OF OLD HALIFAX AND OF A DEAD SPEEDWAY RIDER

Inspired by the Eric Boothroyd story in the Speedway Star

 

Those words written

Reminded me of yesteryear

Days gone by

And all the time

I was thinking that I

Should go and speak with

A dead speedway rider

But I was thinking of

Days gone by

I looked at the sky

And then looked down

I saw myself on my way

To that old speedway ground

 

I saw myself getting into my car

Driven every week by my friend

Who said I didn’t go fast enough for him

We always set off at 6:30 pm sharp

To arrive at the Shay at a quarter past seven

The place where they said

‘You can’t recreate heaven’

Parked the car on the main road

Walked down the slope

To the turn style gate paid our money

Walked right in to watch them take a spin

 

And all the time

My thoughts kept returning

To something else on my mind

I knew I should go and speak with

A dead speedway rider

But I was already busy with

Buying my program

Putting it into my folder

The one with the white elephant on

Then walking onto those concrete steps

 

You would always find us on

Step number fourteen

Two yards from the concrete wall

That divided us from those

Who wanted to sit down

But in this dream

There was no one there

The stadium was bare

Recreated in this thought

All these reminisces we share

 

Stood in that bowl

That holy hole in the ground

Not a sound was heard

But the one provided by

A mild breeze blowing

The dust from the track

Swirling round arising

Even as I put out my hand

To catch the grit swirling

I just knew I ought to go

And speak with

A dead speedway rider gone

A time so long ago

 

On the left hand side of that holy bowl

That hole in the ground

No one stood on the steep bank

That sweeps down to the old white fence

Along the back straight

We stood there once and never again

Even now you can see the people

Living in the block of flats

Watching the racing

Sat on their sofas

Sipping from their cups of tea

 

But even so

I knew I had to go

And speak with

A dead speedway rider

But my thoughts reminded me

Of the bus crews who

Hung over the wall

To watch for nothing

The life and the soul

Watching the riders go by

And we always ask why

Some of them have to die

 

We walk down the front

Past the grand stand

Right down to the pits

Passed that dapperly dressed man

With his brown coat and fur lined collar

Who would nod his head at you

But we never spoke

There was nothing to say

We thought we would

Always be there

Stood on that concrete stair

For ever and a day

But everything changes

Nothing ever remains the same

 

And we walk out onto the track

Place our feet on that holy dust

Why don’t they bring it back

The should never ever have left

And we walk round and round

Lap after lap

Going faster and faster

Riding round the banks

Going wider and wider

And we always thought

They would sort everything out

And we would always be there

But they made the mistake of

Taking it elsewhere

 

It was right then I just knew

I had to go and speak with

A dead speedway rider

They took it somewhere else

And right there the dream almost ended

Ripped out the heart and the soul of

All we had supported together

You could simply give up going

Or find yourself deported

To some strange place

I think they called Bradford

 

But that old track is still there

Because even as you look at

All those old pictures

You immediately feel that breeze blowing

Your hand still held out reaching

For the pieces of grit floating

Through the ether

Where all those memories live

Yes right there where

No one can touch them

 

We can see it all clearly

Deep in our minds eye

Where all of these dreams unwind

Where it will always live

I am there right now

Stood on step fourteen

Living in the dream

Smelling the aromas

Floating through the rafters

Then we got racing

Served up for ‘afters’

And I finally go to speak with

A long dead speedway rider

A long, long time gone

And I said to him

‘What is it like in Valhalla’?

He said

‘All of us can ride

Any track you put before us

And all those other souls departed

Joined in the chorus

Come up some time and watch us’

And I said

‘Is all this not magnificent then’!!!

As all of us caught grains of dust

In our hands

And thought of that strange land we called

Our Paradise

The Shay