Skip to main content

We use JavaScript to set most of our cookies. Unfortunately JavaScript is not running on your browser, so you cannot change your settings using this page. To control your cookie settings using this page try turning on JavaScript in your browser.

About cookies

We've saved some files called cookies on your device. These cookies are:

  • essential for the site to work
  • to help improve our website by collecting and reporting information on how you use it

We would also like to save some cookies to help:

  • improve our website by measuring website usage
  • remember your settings
Change cookie settings

You've accepted all cookies for this website. You can change your cookie preferences at any time

Read Alex Wharton's poem, inspired by the life and achievements of Paul Robeson.

Diolch Mr Robeson

For borrowing your bass notes

to those valley men that marched

half-empty, half-hopeful that

someone would hear them sing.

You swept in, one river into

another. Your voice, deep tone,

Deep as coal – is still remembered in

the miner’s old homes. The slim-streets,

smoke and slate. The mountains,

dark and bold. Cold.

Thunder knows of you, rumbles of you.

Diolch Mr Robeson.  

You knew of pain, son of escaped slave.

Son of God and the good words. Man of

Law, right and wrong. Man of sport and

stage. Man of song. Sing-on,

songs of freedom. Stir us in

in the chilling thrill of low sound.

Underground. Carry us into light.

A thousand heavy souls vibrating

on your throat, into sky.

We are together, we are alive.

And this life is brighter

for everything you gave it.

This life is brighter for

everything you gave it.

 

(for Paul Robeson)