Owd Andree miser of the Grane

Sat amongst the bracken bottom of fairy glen

you’ll find Owd Andrew Scholes strangest of Grane men

Poet, artist, miser of the Grane

fiddle player, local attraction, his story still remains

He lived in fire blackened breeches with legs of different sizes

Buttoned waistcoat middle to top, whiskered chin full of surprises

Tall and thin with legs planted firmly into iron clogs

Top o’ t’ Knoll was home to Andree and his look alike dog

Back parlour brought him visitors plenty, notoriety, fame

was resting place of oversized cart, May Sunday they came to be entertained

He’d spent many a year to ponder craft assemble

through door frame it wouldn’t fit never to reach it’s true potential

They often called on Owd Andree to take up fiddle and play

As farmers celebrated “beef neet” after long abundant days

He was also known to sample with delight the “waters of the Grane”

spun by neighbours in secret cellars tax man never to gain

If you ever chance on Fairy Glenn middle of the Grane

Listen closely to the evening before the silence begins to reign

You can hear Owd Andree’s fiddle whisper on the breeze

please don’t forget to nod to Owd Andree before the Grane you leave