Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

« Previous item
Contents of this issue
Next item »

Peter Thabit Jones

print this page

The Jazz Band at The Gyp

I heard the bass drum first. Thump, thumping beyond my street. Then the army of drums, rattling their confidence. And then the humming tune of the adamant kazoos. I ran down on to Danygraig Road. Mothers and children stood outside their houses. The marching music got louder, as the uniformed jazz band came down the road. The music pounded the early evening. Thump! Hum! Thump Hum! The jazz band passed like a carnival. A smart rectangle of uniforms. People clapped and some children followed as it moved down the road. The tallest boy whacked the big, base drum. The mace carrier turned and tossed the mace, which spiralled back down to his expert grasp.

     Like a band of Pied Pipers, they coaxed the excited crowd down to The Gyp, a pitch used for football, at the bottom of Kilvey Hill. I sat on a grassy bank with other observers, as the band paraded around the rough square of common land. A version of Elvis Presley’s WOODENHEART was hummed and drummed. The crowd cheered and clapped. How I longed to bang a tight-skinned drum; how I longed to catch the falling and twisting, silver-knobbed mace.

 

Page(s) 124

Back to top