An Ode to our Choir!

Nankersey Male Choir at Seventy-Five
An Ode to Song, Sea, and Splendid Company

From Flushing’s quaint and cobbled shore,
Where seagulls swoop and church bells snore,
A mighty sound began to rise—
Of Cornish men with sparkling eyes.

They formed a choir (with little fuss),
With pride and pitch and faith in us.
What started with a fishing few,
Soon blossomed into quite a crew!

Now nearly sixty voices strong,
From towns and hamlets, they belong
To something more than Monday nights—
They’re part of Cornwall’s song-filled lights.

They’ve sung in churches, sung at shows,
The Royal Albert Hall (where grandeur grows),
From gardens grand to coastal view,
They’ve sung in sun—and drizzle too.

They’ve raised some cheer, and pounds as well—
For causes good, too many to tell.
Their music lifts, it shares, it gives—
A choir with purpose in its ribs.

But who’s the one who keeps them neat,
In tune, in time, and on their feet?
It’s Elaine Tangye, full of sass—
Conducting like a boss en masse.

She waves her arms, she commands, she grins,
She counts them in, she calms their sins.
And best of all (oh yes, it’s true),
She changes hats more than her shoes!

With every cue and steady grace,
She lifts the choir to its rightful place.
One of Cornwall’s finest, that’s no doubt—
The music world can’t do without.

Now let’s give praise to all the parts—
The beating choral, coastal hearts!

The Basses, deep as mines of tin,
They rumble low with pride and chin.
They growl like thunder down below—
And nap mid-song (we let it go).

The Baritones? A noble race,
They think they are the vocal base.
Not high, not low—they hold the glue,
And argue over each note value.

The Tenors, sweet and full of flight,
They claim they hit those high notes right.
They float above, a dreamy sound—
And often leave the Earthly ground.

And while the singers strut and hum,
One man keeps calm (though fingers numb):
Michael, with his hands of gold,
A piano man, brave and bold.

He battles keys both black and white,
With singers launching left and right.
He plays through page turns, sneezes, fluffs—
Through key changes and tempo bluffs.

No music reading? That’s no crime.
Just bring your heart, your voice, your time.
At St Peter’s Hall, most Mondays eve,
You’ll find them there—they rarely leave!

They’ve sung for Cornwall, loud and clear,
For causes held so close and dear.
With every note, they’ve helped to raise
Support and hope in countless ways

So here we are—three quarters done,
Of one great century of song and fun.
We celebrate with pride and flair—
A choir so grand, beyond compare!

So, lend an ear, and raise a smile,
Let celebrate this choir awhile.
For Nankersey, with hearts so wide,
Still sings with joy—and Cornish pride.