Some things just happen, and adopting the bullock-cart driver as the symbol of friendship is a good example. Moving on his endless way, as his ancestors had done for a thousand years, the bullock-cart driver makes unhurried progress at two to three miles an hour; but he has been known to gallop! His singing – whether to keep himself awake, ward off evil spirits, or simply to communicate with his maker – is a feature of life on the Grand Trunk Road. His drinking habits are modest; his response to the roar of modern traffic, a friendly smile. As the link between the villages of India he is the friend of everyone. This song, sung at the inauguration of The Green Pennant Awards by Chris Nicholls, is dedicated to the bullock-cart driver and his colleagues.

My friend, we have met a thousand times,

And your image comes vividly to my mind.

With unaltering pace, patience personified,

You journey on content, and I am left behind.

The creaking of your cart, the bumps, the grinding wheels,

The rhythmic footfalls of your bulls portend

The tenor of an endless way

Beneath your gentle hand my lonely friend.

My friend, hark to the modern chase,

And its message demanding you give way,

In homage before the mood of passing time,

And end the thousand years, that went before today.

The blinding scourge of dust, from traffic roaring by,

Provokes your anger, wins a kindly smile,

Comforting your bulls, now briskly coaxing,

You journey on forgiving, for yet another mile.

My friend, when heart and limb are tired,

And your hopes lie stilled within your breast,

Lay aside your reins, and put your trust in God,

And ask of Him the blessing of some rest.

The hurricane lamp swings, and gently beckons still,

Symbol of comfort, of hope and of light,

Scatter your doubts and fears forever,

Forever shining brightly through the night.

My friend, it’s time to say farewell,

We shall meet again but parting I confess,

Of all the things you see and others miss,

I treasure most, your memory timelessness.