Memories of Martha Ellen

Some time ago while doing some research at the local Reference Library, I came across an old dusty box file which had been deposited there by the family of a lady called Martha Ellen Bancroft, after her death. The box was full of lots of little things which this lady had obviously treasured throughout her life not just photographs and letters, but some personal items such as glasses and nail scissors. I began to build up a picture in my mind, while going through the contents, of what this lady must have been like, and how she led her life. I felt a little sad that this lady’s whole life now seemed to be represented by just a box full of old papers left to gather dust on a shelf in the Library, and was moved to write a poem about this experience.Anyway, on with the story….I recently sent this poem to a local magazine, which has a family history section, and was lucky enough to have it published, and that was the end of the story as far as I was concerned…..but then out of the blue I was contacted by a lady from Cowling near Skipton, who recognised the person who the poem was written about and sent me more information about this lady and her family.Martha Ellen Bancroft was a single lady who lived all her life in Cowling, and who with her other maiden sisters had worshipped at at Ickornshaw Methodist Chapel, and when it closed in 1985, the remaining members transfered to St Andrews Methodist Church Cowling.In memory of the sisters, the Church later named their meeting room as “The Bancroft Room”.The Local History Group meet monthly in The Bancroft Room at St Andrew's, and at their last meeting they read out my poem to the audience, some of whom had known Martha Ellen….. I wish I could have been there to read it out in person !!

[The photograph at the top shows Marth Ellen, second from right, as a child at what is believed to be a Whit Walk in Cowling]

Here’s the poem.

It was just a box of old papers

Left for all to see

What was hidden there waiting

Had it been left for me

So many pictures to look at

Scraps of paper, nothing else

Momentoes of some happy times

Memories now, nothing left

Her life, just a bundle of papers

Laid bare to be viewed by all

Was it a life full of interest

Or just a sorry tale

So many items to look at

So many thoughts left unsaid

Was she this quite gentle soul

Or lively and outgoing instead

All these items…..treasured memories

Made happy times, I’ll bet

Did this lady live her life

With such a gregarious set

Pictures of that bonny babe

Holding her mother’s hand

And later in life….a maiden lady

Abroad in a foreign land

How strange it feels, just looking

Invading her private life

These photos of her twilight years

Why was she never a wife

So what was her life made up of

Would she have changed if she could

Or was she content with the way it was spent

Did she live life to the full

And who will remember her passing

This maiden lady, so kind

Is she just a box of old papers

Not a second thought in one’s mind