Nostalgia's Distant Plain

(To every Anglo-Indian band and to the days when railway institutes were filled with the joy and cheer of great music.)

As I sit in this corner and watch memories float by
I quietly let out a giggle, a chuckle or a sigh
For I recall the expression on every jovial face
Who were my companions in a distant time and place

I remember Sunday afternoons, when we spent a while
In song and dance, as we relaxed in style
And rendered tunes that came from country and the west
As we spent the day in much jovial vigour and zest

To Jim Reeves, we would pay tuneful tribute
And Hank Williams might soon follow suit
Or we’d “tie a yellow ribbon round an old-oak tree”
And spend friendly moments, with abandon free

I cannot help, but quietly pluck a string
As I remember those times when cheer would ring
As the institute was ‘decked with bells of holly’
And we celebrated with gusto, ‘the season to be jolly’

Memory urges me, now, to play a soft, little note
For I cannot help, but with much passion gloat
About the many times I had jived “round the clock”
To the quick and popular beat of “Jailhouse Rock.”

I remember the institute, in it every joyful wedding
As the groom twirled the bride to “she wears my ring”
Before the crowd could ramble under arch after arch
As the creaky floor weathered the energetic Grand March

Then, there were evenings when moods might quietly shift
And into fervently profound numbers soulfully drift
As “Rhinestone Cowboy” and “Rambling Man” would mourn
About missing the lovely “Green, green grass of home.”

As I sit in this corner and gaze across nostalgia’s distant plain
These fond memories, will – with me – always remain
For I will never forget those days when I was a certified star
In every Anglo-Indian home: the trusty, tuneful, box guitar.