' THERE'S NONE SO BLIND...... David Nuttall
 
This is a true account which occurred in
the Wickams Arms m Cleckheaton as a
part of the Annual Folk Festival held in 
the town...Saturday afternoon.

It was just another singaround 
In a crowded backroom bar .
All those who wanted had a turn...
Participants......no star !!
The beer was flowing freely,
Strains of banjo ...whistle too
When a little lad was guided in...
Just a child midst motley crew.

He had a ruddy , radiant face
Upright stance and curly hair.
His father gently led him in
To the centre standing there.
You knew that he was special..
His father by his side.
He announced that Sian would like to sing
And his parents glowed with pride.

The company was gently hushed
While Sian stared straight ahead.
His father reassured him
Then not a word was said.
His Irish brogue it wrent the air.
His confidence it grew.
He sang his song with feeling...
But no vision as we knew.

He probably had never seen
Mourne's mountains...soft , sun-kissed
Or Molly Malone in Dublin town
Coney Island swathed in mist.
Or fishing boats on Strangford Loch,
Sunsets on Galway Bay
But his words evoked such feeling
His song did much convey.

Or salmon running from the sea
Left no memory in his mind.
The shingle shift of Dingle Beach
To imaginings confined.
But less of visual images...
These were not his father's goal
But more of growing confidence
And singing from the soul.

When his lovely song was over
The lad he smiled to thank
The company assembled there
For listening as they drank.
And as the lad was led away
It was obvious that he
Without his sight......saw clearly
Maybe blind.....but HE could see.