Kevin Pyne, of Lake Street, Dartmouth, writes:

I thank the staff of the Chronicle for helping me yet again publicise the ongoing need for regatta oars and I thank those who sponsored them.

As of yet they have not arived but it always goes down to the wire, so it has been known for the names, painted on by Paul Barclay, to be still tacky when they are put on view at yet another opening of a very fine and old reggata

 

I dreamt that saw there

The ghosts of reggata

And those who came

Long before me

To row hard for a purse

Of sovereigns

Or to draw in the great

Bowing wind catching

Canvases of the tall masted

Yachts out racing at sea

And I saw she who was

The Empress Victoria

And her handsome

Consort Albert that day

When she honoured

The town with her visit

And for the first gig 

Over the line a fine

Full prize purse she by

Her hand did then pay

 

Then was not the harbour

Left devoid of all bunting

When our young men

Went to fight in two world

Wars

And while it was that so

Many died

On both bitter occasions

As soon as it could be so

There were royal regattas

There in our deep hidden

Sheltered beautiful harbour

Yet again once more

 

Yes there have been many

Changes

And there will be changes

But always over and over

Again

Save that is for oars and sail

For is that not what regattas

Are about and long might it

Then so remain

 

So what of the great harbour

Valley and how it is but so

That all are made welcome

And all who might wish to

Can join with the ghost of

Centuries if they sail or row

 

And if nothing is for always

Then is that not in fact

Life’s way

Yet you can bet that there

Will always be a reggata just

As long as August contains

Therein a single last Friday