Look up to where
The Grimshaw skylines
Sit above the coffee bars.
By the city station,
Venetian towers of catalogues and wool
Stand over the Aire as it pushes to Hull.
Take the slow canal west towards Liverpool,
To the mansion on the hill,
Where Gott housed his Caravaggios,
And countless brothers made square cuts,
Ran tries or scored goals
As proud grandfathers
Watched over Farmer Brown’s field;
The cobbles still run uphill
To the back-to-back Moorfields;
And the grand old school
(Where my education has since been rubbed out)
By the park where Charlie sold cakes.
Sunday morning still wakes
To the bells of Christ Church,
Now the tribes of Briggantes
And the Romans have gone,
But Leeds will continue to feed on the Aire
Springing forth from Malham’s cathedral Cove.
Howard Benn