“Or royally step to slake a thirst, under moorland mermaid birch.” These are the lines 358, and 359, from the poem A Scapeshifter, which goes on from, and corresponds to; the lines in T S Elliot’s poem The Wasteland “Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop, But there is no water”. The water in the mermaid pool is said to be saline, so not readily drinkable; the mythology of the locality suggesting that it is connected back to the Atlantic ocean, by an underground or mystical conduit: making the pool bottomless. Legend says that on Easter eve at midnight, the mermaid may be seen, and that by encountering her; possibilities of immortality arise. There are Kinder Scout stories of fertility, and the myth of rebirth, which is the thing that is missing in The Wasteland; where there is neither the Water of Life, or any Spiritual meaning to the harsh reality of existence; in the modernity of naturalism. And by these local myths of the Peak Districts Kinder Scout; the meaning of myth; does not necessarily mean true or false; the understanding of the myth, must be attained by an aspirants own search, and verification. The truth, it has been said; cannot be suppressed: to try to do so will give it a force beyond endurance. Line 360 of the poem A Scapeshifter begins a poetic story of a cricket team called Birch Vale; who played in the Sett valley below Kinder Scout, and who under the captaincy of Timothy Wynn Johnson; achieved back to back first division league and cup doubles in 1993 and 1994; a unique feat in a history of the Derbyshire and Cheshire league, dating back to 1952. In the video of A Scapeshifter (part 5) the 1993 side can be seen in a team photograph, taken at a national regional final, at Northop Hall, in North Wales. The cricketers are are back row, left to right; Andrew Johnson, David Platt, Tim Johnson, Paul Sharp, John Bradshaw, Paul Bowers, and bottom row left to right; Bill Hyde, Richard Johnson, Stephen Burns, Jeremy Cradock, and Duncan Hibbert. In the following double winning year of 1994 the team was bolstered by all rounder John Digby Collinson. There is also a poem about the mermaid pool by the young poet Henry Kirke White, who died when only 21 years old: both he and his poem are worth investigating, for there are stories from the past, that are present in the poems. Sometimes the poets may see it first.
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