Oh, did you come by Lockton.

On a wintry afternoon

And watch the storm clouds gather

And listen to the tune

Of the shrill North-easter blowing

O'er the moorland road from the sea,

With a tang of the salt wave in it,

And a lashing of hail in its lee?

Oh, did you come by Lockton.

One morn in early Spring,

And see the green trees bending

And hear the merry ring

Of a thousand bluebells shaking

In a fairy haunted wood,

Or walk an a violet carpet

Where the primrose lately stood?

Oh, did you come by Lockton,

In laughing late July

And hear the song of a thousand birds,

Or a curlew's plaintive cry.

As he wheels o'er the lonely valley

In the haze of the Summer hours.

While browsing kine on the hillside

Move on 'mid the swaying flowers

Oh, did you come by Lockton.

When Autumn shed its gold,

And gaze on the misty moorland

Where the distant hills unfold

Their mantle of royal purple

'Mid bracken of russet sheen,

Where its store the squirrel is hiding

And the hunted fox is seen?

For I long for the hills of Lockton.

And one day I will go

To the kindly folk on the hillside,

Where the heather and bracken grow.

Where the shrill North-easter's blowing

Down the moorland road from the sea

With a tang of the salt wave in it

And a lashing of hail in its lee.



Lockton & Levisham

Lockton and Levisham queen it together,
Only a mile - and a chasm - between;
Straddling the hill-tops and braving the weather,
Neighbours across the enormous ravine.

Lockton and Levisham - there's no comparing:

Together they dwell in my memory apart,
Dignity, beauty, unemulous sharing,
Divided by nature, but not in my heart.

By R A. Carter

Does the wind still roar on Levisham Hill?
Does the beck tumble yet down at the mill?
Is the valley as lovely as I remember,
And the bracken as gold in early November?

Does the mist drift and curl by the silver stream?
I see it yet as in a dream,
The black faced sheep who stare as you pass,
The wild purple orchids in the young green grass.

Do the martins still nest under the eves?
Does George sweep yet the fallen leaves?
Will it be the same? Oh, I pray that it will,
On the day I return to Levisham Mill

Marjorie Clare Sykes

From 'To the camp of the Lord'

O thou north of England, who art counted as desolate and barren,
and reckoned the least of the nations;
yet out of thee did the branch spring and the star arise 
that gives light to all the regions round about.

Edward Burrough 1655


Lockton Geese

by Miss Joanne Pearson, Whitby


Two white geese at Lockton farm

Sitting quietly, doing no harm

Waiting patiently for Tuesday

For treats to come, hip hip hooray.


That white car we know so well

We honk and scream as loud as a bell

We run and run oh so fast

Buns and wheat, ooh Alas.


Hurry hurry, we need to know

What's in your bag, please do show

Is it scones or soft white bread?

You really do keep us well fed.


The bucket of wheat spills to the floor

Food everywhere, broad piles galore

Then come the cats to seal a slice

"Go away you've got your mice".


You've all got your cat rings as your own treats

Steal our food and you will see our beaks

They grind and clap when we get cross

So remember cats, we are both the boss!


You really are lucky geese

Receiving all those delightful treats

A lovely village for you both to roam

There really is no place like home.


Dusk sets in, it's time for bed

George arrives to open the shed

"In you both go, for the night

To keep you out of harmful sight".


Published in Pickering Gazette 31/1/2007

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