Poetry Corner

Light up the Hill

Light up the Hill!
Light up the Hill!
The Legions come.
Light up the Hill!
Fetch the Queen!
Hide the children!
Raise the army!
Light up the Hill.

Light up the Hill!
The Vikings come.
Inside the fort,
Fast as you can.
Move the cattle,
Get your bow. 
Get your spear.
Light up the Hill!

Light up the Hill!
The Zeppelin’s here.
Man the guns,
Shoot it down!
Out of your houses,
Don’t be afraid.
The Navy’s here.
Light up the Hill!

Light up the Hill!
The bombers come.
Switch on the lights
And fire the guns.
Once again,
Sad to say,
War has come.
Light up the Hill!

Light up the Hill, Light up the Hill!
The children sing, Light up the Hill!
Peace has is here now, time for fun
Lights in trees, drinks and buns.
Windy, dark November night,
Laughter, song, all’s all right.
Watch the fires, see the play,
No more war is what we pray.
Light up the Hill!
Light up the Hill!

                               David Anson  November 17th 2014


Stand with me on Wincobank Hill:
Feel the pull of the past and the present’s power
In a place where time never stands quite still
Where you can pack a life into half an hour
Where the Celts made homes and the Romans played
And you can roll an egg or take a walk,
Where proud folks live and friends are made
And the air is loud with Sheffield talk
About Wincobank, how it needs us all
To tell its story and sing its song
And answer its questions and heed its call                                               
‘Cos the past has gone but tomorrow’s long.
We all know banks have had a really bad time;
For the past few years we’ve seen ‘em slump
Cos their compound interest sub-sub-prime
Has made all the bankers seem like chumps
Well here’s a bank that won’t go bust
A place that we can really thank
For repaying our time, our love, our trust:
So Invest your future in WincoBank!

by Ian McMillan

Top of a Hill.
My forehead's freezing, my feet are soaked, I knew I should have brought a coat.
The wind is howling my hands are blue, but still you can't surpass the view.
Quivering lips, tear soaked cheeks, I've been here an hour but it seems like weeks.
You're looking down for miles around, Meadow hall, factories and into town.
In the distant far horizon, the moorlands washed out colours, your eyes on.
Then further round to Grenna woods, below the flowered estate looks good
A snake of traffic slivers away, but will still be there another day...
My eyes are back to Winco Wood lane, just in time as it starts to rain.

by Byron Cowling
April 2012

On Wincobank Hill
Where the path seems to end
Suddenly  the whole world appears
And I.....
Sledge down the path
Jump on islands in rainy streams 
Hear owls at sunset
See  fireworks explode across the city
And gather holly on Christmas Eve
by Millie Barker
aged 7, 2011

Air-Raid Night
You can see the nightly visitors of Sheffield 's past,
Streets deserted like the flamy plains of hell.
The city dressed for battle,
Slow moving barrage balloons drift across the misty sky.
Solitary remains of buildings like fingers pointing in the midnight gloom,
 Bullets like 1000 fireworks flickering in the moonlight.
The muffled explosions of distant bombs sound outside the metal shelter,
Fearful families huddled together, scared, frightened, frustrated.
Waiting for their friendly wail of the clear siren,
Anxiously scrambling out of the shelter,
Hoping their eyes don't see a burning pile of rubble. 
by Bryn Wainwright  
aged 9, 2010