It's the music which is, the father of all
No shrill clarinets, no flute caterwaul.
But tones that are mellow and notes that are round
Combine to create that great brass band sound.

Behind this array of blue, black and gold
There's many a tale that could be told
Of bandroom banter, of practical jokes
That George and some others, played on innocent folks

Rehersals, engagements, contests and all,
Whatever the occasion George answered the call.
He walked for the band, he cut the grasses
And often was known to borrow pink glasses !

But over the years what has come to be true
It's not prima donnas, but the dedicated few
With their passion for music, for brass and for friends
That's stopped this becoming one of those passing trends.

This tribute is over, the rhyme almost done,
But as George would have wanted, this band marches on.

By Karin Havercroft.