Whenever I hear music
Whenever I hear music
You are near;
Your very essence permeates the notes
Enhancing their delight.
However distant from me
Still most dear;
Whenever I hear music
You are there.
Meg Rugg-Easey
A Conductor Named Bryce(1969)
There was once a conductor named Bryce
Who, remounting his rostrum, said ‘Twice
‘I’ve been swept off my feet –
‘But I’m still on the beat!’
That undaunted conductor named Bryce.
Meg Rugg-Easey 1969
Christmas Wishes (1968)
Another Year gone by;
Another Year
Slides from the unseen future
To the past.
A little have we gained;
A little lost.
The balance tips a little more to Age
And less to Youth.
A part of what we gained
We owe to you.
Our thanks we give you, and we
wish you joy
This Christmas and throughout the
year to come.
Meg Rugg-Easey 1968
Music
Serene and beautiful the music flows
In measured waves around me, drowning care
When others play; but when I play it flows
Unevenly, with laboured faltering pulse,
Not beautiful and not at all serene.
With fingers tied in knots and nerves strung taut
I fight the music – more my foe than friend,
Enjoying first the battle, then the peace,
Either of victory or defeat, which one
It matters not; only the fighting counts.
‘Relax’ says Mr. Bryce ‘that phrase should sound
‘tranquil and smooth.’ (Tranquil, oh what a hope!)
‘Spread the notes out; don’t puff in little puffs…
‘Why are you playing softly – it says ‘loud!’…
‘And can’t you bring that melody to life
‘Instead of killing it? There are long gaps
‘After those trills; join them up. Try always
‘To listen to yourself and keep in tune
‘Don’t rush, sound all the notes distinctly; keep
‘Those fingers firmly down; breathe when you must,
‘Don’t burst your lungs, it spoils the even flow
‘Of the music if you gasp.’
Oh dear, I think
I’ll give the clarinet a rest and try
To play the pianola right instead.
Meg Rugg-Easey
Anniversary (1968)
A year ago two of us came
Our clarinets a-blowing,
Now there are three instead of two –
Your student band is growing!
If by next year the number should
Increase by half again
Why, then you’ld have four and a half
And that might be a strain!
Slowly we learn, as weeks slip by,
For skills are slowly won.
It’s difficult, but thanks to you
It certainly is fun!
Meg Rugg-Easey 1968
For Mr. Bryce (1967)
Almost a year has passed since first we came
Seeking your expert guidance in the art
Of coaxing from the clarinet those sounds
Melodious which it is designed to give.
Thousands of squeaks and wrong notes, sharps and flats
Unheeded or not needed; notes too long;
Not long enough; too soft; too loud; you’ve borne
With patience never-failing. Grateful thanks
For this, and for the pleasure learning brings.
We know you’re awfully busy; we scarce dare
Ask you to cope with us another year.
Small fry beside your orchestras and choirs
We are at least – you must admit it – Tryers!
Meg Rugg-Easey 1967
Two Years in Khaki (1945)
I little knew, two years ago, when dressed
Newly in khaki, what these years would add
To my small store of knowledge. Looking back
I still know little but I’ve learnt a lot
Of things both good and bad and for them all
Am grateful. I can cram my life’s
Essentials, in a moment, in two packs
And travel night and day asking not where
(nor caring either.) I can live within
A crowded mess yet call my soul my own.
I’ve met more people, seen more places than
Ever I did in peace-time. I’m prepared
To try my hand at any job I’m given
Without expostulating first, and I
Who hated changes, can accept them now
With fatalistic calm. I yearn no more
For steaming baths, dry clothes, or ham and eggs.
If I can get enough to eat and drink,
Can sleep by night and can keep warm by day,
And get my letters quickly, I’m content –
Well, more or less content, a bowler hat
Is all I ask for more: I’ve learnt enough
In these two years to know it suits me well.
Margaret Taylor 1945
A Poor Exit
We came down the steps to the
waiting ambulance slowly. The ‘sick-on-
leave’ had the paper parcel containing
his small kit tucked under one elbow
and I supported the other.
Ten minutes ago the street had been
deserted. Now there were twenty or more
children circulating noisily round the
ambulance, fingering the sides, poking
the tyres, and even attempting to let
down the steps at the back (a feat
not to be accomplished without practice.)
It was Saturday, a school holiday,
and here, it seemed, was a heaven-
sent diversion. I did not blame
them, but I prayed that none of the
smaller fry would camp beneath it
before we moved off.
A Poor Exit
The chattering diminished as we
descended the steps, the spotlight
focussed on us mercilessly, and for
a minute there was quietness. Then
a stage whisper inquired whether ‘that
was a lady doctor?’ ‘No’ The
reply came from a sturdy circa-6yr-
old, evidently in authority. ‘No, she
is a soldier.’ In support of his
authority I hid my stethoscope
behind my back as I advanced.
‘She’s a – – – she’s a – – – General’
he went on, a little puzzled and
probably wondering why so important
an officer should visit so unimportant
a place. ‘She’s got three pips and
a crown, she must be a General.’
By that time I had climbed
up beside the driver and was
eager to be removed from the
range of further speculations. As
the engine started a tousle-headed
imp of insatiable curiosity emitted
a shrill pipe ‘It isn’t three pips
and a crown, Tommy, it’s three pips
and a button!
And then we departed – a poor
exit I thought.
Margaret Taylor 1944
The Sapper’s Lament
Said the S.M.O. to the J.M.O.
With a frown “Now, did you say
Four hundred skin inspections are
Too many on one day?
Now listen, I will tell you how
Inspections can be done
Efficiently and only take
Ten seconds for each one –
Nearly four hundred in an hour.
(Don’t shake your head I pray
I tell you it is simple if
You do it as I say.)
Teach them to follow fast in turn
And glance as each goes by
At hands, axillae, chest and back
Their teeth, then turn your eye
In rapid survey o’er the girl.
If any should look ill
Or if they have symptoms to air
Tell them to wait until
The end, then you can spend what time
You have, or like, on each.
Oh, inspections are mere child’s play if
You practice what I preach!”
Margaret Taylor 1943
Titles (Jan 1944)
The A.T.S. with one accord
Say ‘Ma’am’ when they address her
But though this is an ugly sound
It does not much distress her.
The men, uncertain, call her ‘Sir’,
‘Madam’ or ‘Doctor’. These
Alike she accepts with easy grace,
For she’s not hard to please.
E’en when a sapper, semi-sober,
Greeted her as ‘Kid’
She chuckled and forgave him, but
She turned a trifle red.
Margaret Taylor Jan. 1944