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Feather's Miscellany: Garlic Lane

Here is the opening speech of John Waddington-Feather’s new play Garlic Lane, recently performed to acclaim in London.

Poetry Narrator

The lane runs like a thread from the town, linking
row on row of houses flanking
a park, a rugby league and cricket field
that leap the river to the high-backed moors, hilled
purple heights which stand aloof and sweep
to the wind the muck that chimneys wipe
across the lane far, far below.
Mean they seem, but millstone streets belie
the life romped out in Garlic Lane.
No squalid drabness here, but line on line
of homes alive with righteousness and vice,
sin and virtue all a-tussle. Where voice
on voice flat-vowelled scrag the air
as Saturday begins to gain momentum, hour
by weekend hour; and the rugby league crowd
jostles over white-scrubbed flagstones, carried
in a tide down Garlic Lane, past
the Misses Twitchetts’ parlour which the goal posts
peep so coyly into from the pitch.


Garlic Lane is a one-act verse play by John, obtainable from Feather Books, P.O. Box 438, Shrewsbury SY3 0BW, UK at £5 or $10 U.S)


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