Caedmon Never Had It As Good

CAEDMON NEVER HAD IT AS GOOD

Caedmon never had it as good
Talk about the lonely goatherd,
he was a cowherd man
Looked after his beasts
up on the moors
all night
while the monks
at Stroenschall
got their four hours
of meagre sleep
on a hard, stone bench
in a drear, dank, draughty cell
No sleep for him
watching the herd
What he didn't know
about Love
Did he know
about Love ?
The Love of the Lord ?
He loved them cows
God was in those cows
as he was in the abbey
as he was in the sea
that pounded nightly
at the cliffs
Caedmon had no Latin
in him
He was a cowherd
not a cleric
But he could sing
He could praise the Lord
He did it too
In his own way
He did his thing
No Latin canticle for him
No Te Deum In Gloriam
but Caedmon's Song of Praise,
Caedmon's Metrical Paraphrase of Parts of the Holy Scripture
They've given it a name now
but he just sang it
in his dark Northumbrian tongue
Yorkshire's first poet,
the birth of dialect literature

Caedmon never had it as good
He only loved his cows
He only loved life
He only loved St.Hilda
He only loved God
He only loved the word of God
He spoke his truth
as he only knew how
He'd never had it at all
Who wanted it ?
Who needed it ?
Caedmon never had it as good

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Sheffield, 16th June 1971

Publications

1973 York Poetry (UK)
1980 THE RAINBOW AND OTHER POEMS (Heckmondwyke, Fighting Cock Press)
1991 Ore (UK)

Note: The version published in Ore was modified at the request of Eric Ratcliffe, omitting the final stanza and reducing the title to CAEDMON.