Glyn Jones Centre

For Glyn and Doreen

That day we met in Merthyr
The sun shone warm and bright;
Five pit–heads peered with coaly eye
Out of the owners’ night.

We climbed the hill to Dowlais,
Drank in the Lamb and Child,
Where the mild men called for bitter
And the bitter ordered mild.

We saw our landlord’s terrier,
Stuffed, in a cage of glass,
And on the streets in thousands
The Dais and Blodwens passed.

Half of the Dais were outside-halfs
And all the Dais wrote verse,
And all the Blods were nightingales,
Some better, some were worse.

We talked of Jack, Caradoc, Rhys,
Approved R. S. and Wyn,
Praised Dylan, Idris, Margiad, Prys,
Thought well of Glyn and Gwyn.

Then as the sun fell off the hill
We went our separate ways;
Glyn headed down for Morlais brook,
Gwyn headed for Cathays.

And still the music of that day
Deep in my heart intones:
That lovely poet, lovely man,
Our lovely friend, Glyn Jones.

Gwyn Jones

This poem appears by kind permission of Nia Harper and Heledd Hayes.