2025 Competition Entry:
Wild Garlic Time by Chris Manners
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Genre
Folk
Artist
Co-writer(s)
no
Performer(s)
Chris Manners, 12 string guitar and vocals. Violin by Jon Loomes
Description
Only that I wanted to capture a moment, a particular time of year.
Bio
Chris Manners has washed elephants in Thailand, delivered newspapers in Rio, marvelled at a volcano in Hawaii, sat in a thousand traffic jams and yawned at countless inter-office memos. He’s been honing his songwriting and performing craft for over 40 years, his work deeply rooted in the English folk tradition and influenced by the likes of Martin Carthy and Nic Jones, Bill Caddick and Jake Thackray.
In Autumn 2024 he released his fourth solo album Bar the Doors and Bang the Shutters Down to excellent reviews.
He lives in West Yorkshire, cut his performing teeth in Barnsley and is a long-time resident at Pete Coe’s Ryburn folk club and with the folk development organisation Ryburn 3 Step. He has performed all over the UK, including Sidmouth and Towersey festivals and West End Theatres. He was also part of the editorial and production team at the now-defunct and much-missed TykesStirrings, the listings magazine for folk music in Yorkshire.
In Autumn 2024 he released his fourth solo album Bar the Doors and Bang the Shutters Down to excellent reviews.
He lives in West Yorkshire, cut his performing teeth in Barnsley and is a long-time resident at Pete Coe’s Ryburn folk club and with the folk development organisation Ryburn 3 Step. He has performed all over the UK, including Sidmouth and Towersey festivals and West End Theatres. He was also part of the editorial and production team at the now-defunct and much-missed TykesStirrings, the listings magazine for folk music in Yorkshire.
Lyrics
Sometimes in the morning there’s a frost along the garden wall
but afternoons are warm enough to sit out in a chair;
and if you waken early, part the curtains gingerly
in the next-door field there leaps and spins the dancing hare.
Oh, in those few weeks
between daffodil and rhododendron;
those few weeks
that wake the earth from rest
When winter is a memory, summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
The breeze is sharp when days are fine; good drying on the washing line
while early-season cricketers are freezing in the slips.
A shadow in the evening dim — if you do not startle him —
the roebuck nibbles daintily at tender shoots and tips
Not just yet
Let’s wait a while to draw the blinds
and watch the sunset
redden in the west
When winter is a memory and summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
The blossom’s on the apple tree and out on the magnolia
The rabbit’s in the rockery, the cuckoo any day;
A leaf shaped like a dagger blade, a perfume sweet and rank at once,
and blossom like pale dandelion come the end of May
Those few weeks
when the sun returns to warm the gardener
Small birds scratch
for moss to line the nest
When winter is a memory and summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
So, pick some for your salads or throw handfuls in the cooking pot,
give a bag to friends and neighbours every time they call
or simply tread among it slowly up and down the garden walk
but take a moment savouring this loveliest time of all
In those few weeks
between daffodil and rhododendron;
those few weeks
when Hope wears Sunday best
When winter is a memory and summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
When winter is a memory and summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
but afternoons are warm enough to sit out in a chair;
and if you waken early, part the curtains gingerly
in the next-door field there leaps and spins the dancing hare.
Oh, in those few weeks
between daffodil and rhododendron;
those few weeks
that wake the earth from rest
When winter is a memory, summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
The breeze is sharp when days are fine; good drying on the washing line
while early-season cricketers are freezing in the slips.
A shadow in the evening dim — if you do not startle him —
the roebuck nibbles daintily at tender shoots and tips
Not just yet
Let’s wait a while to draw the blinds
and watch the sunset
redden in the west
When winter is a memory and summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
The blossom’s on the apple tree and out on the magnolia
The rabbit’s in the rockery, the cuckoo any day;
A leaf shaped like a dagger blade, a perfume sweet and rank at once,
and blossom like pale dandelion come the end of May
Those few weeks
when the sun returns to warm the gardener
Small birds scratch
for moss to line the nest
When winter is a memory and summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
So, pick some for your salads or throw handfuls in the cooking pot,
give a bag to friends and neighbours every time they call
or simply tread among it slowly up and down the garden walk
but take a moment savouring this loveliest time of all
In those few weeks
between daffodil and rhododendron;
those few weeks
when Hope wears Sunday best
When winter is a memory and summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
When winter is a memory and summer still a treat to come,
of all the turning year I love wild garlic time the best.
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