The weary man may rest serene in leafy sylvan Willesden Green

A page about Willesden Green in literature and verse (including songs!)

Taken from Metroland: a Betjeman poem

from A Few Late Chrysanthemums (1954)

Baker St Station Buffet

Early Electric! With what radiant hope
Men formed this many-branched electrolier,
Twisted the flex around the iron rope
And let the dazzling vacuum globes hang clear,
And then with hearts the rich contrivance fill’d
Of copper, beaten by the Bromsgrove Guild.

Early Electric! Sit you down and see,
‘Mid this fine woodwork and a smell of dinner,
A stained-glass windmill and a pot of tea,
And sepia views of leafy lanes in Pinner –
Then visualize, far down the shining lines,
Your parents’ homestead set in murmuring pines.

Smoothly from Harrow, passing Preston Road,
They saw the last green fields and misty sky,
At Neasden watched a workmen’s train unload,
And, with the morning villas sliding by,
They felt so sure on their electric trip
That Youth and Progress were in partnership.

And all that day in murky London Wall
The thought of Ruislip kept him warm inside;
At Farringdon that lunch hour at a stall
He bought a dozen plants of London Pride;
While she, in arc-lit Oxford Street adrift,
Soared through the sales by safe hydraulic lift.

Early Electric! Maybe even here
They met that evening at six-fifteen
Beneath the hearts of this electrolier
And caught the first non-stop to Willesden Green,
Then out and on, through rural Rayner’s Lane
To autumn-scented Middlesex again.

Cancer has killed him. Heart is killing her.
The trees are down. An Odeon flashes fire
Where stood their villa by the murmuring fir
When ” they would for their children’s good conspire. ”
Of their loves and hopes on hurrying feet
Thou art the worn memorial, Baker Street.

****************************************************

Well, I tried to settle down Fulham Broadway
And I tried to make my home in Golders Green
But I gotta get that train and go back home again
Oh, how I miss the folks back home in Willesden Green

You know, I tried, I really tried to settle in this big city
And I always thought I could make it all on my very own
But there’s one thing that keeps calling me
To that little, that little semi-detached
That’s the folks, yeah, the folks back home in Willesden Green

Songwriters
DAVIES, RAYMOND DOUGLAS

Published by
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing

**************************************************************

From Willesden to Cricklewood
I tell you the town looked good
Walking lonely avenues
Where rhinestone cowboys find the blues
There's people in

***********************************************************

go to the carpa.
I wanna go to the carpa
I wanna go to carpa.

In Willesden!
Harlesden!
Waterford!
Junction! Junction! Junction!
I love London.
*****************************************************
There's a place of great renown it's not far from Camden Town
It's Ireland's county number thirty three
Where the crack it's mighty good from Kensal Rise to Cricklewood
The Republic of Kilburn is its name

If it's records you want handy get yourself along to Mandy's
It's on the high road down in Willesden Green
And the drink it's flowing down at the Broadway in the Crown
The Republic Of Kilburn's still the same
http://www.seanbradysinger.com/lyrics.htm
******************************************************

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