Between January and April this year, we visited community choirs across Somerset, reaching more than 500 participants from across the county.

The workshops were led by celebrated local composer Verity Standen, who worked with the choirs to explore the theme of home and gave them the opportunity to be the first to sing music discovered in our archives that we believe had not been sung for more than 400 years.

The workshop series was developed as part of the Vicars’ Close Project, which is currently supported by a grant from The National Lottery Heritage Fund. Thanks to National Lottery players, the Close is undergoing urgent repairs, and some of its houses and spaces will open to the public for the first time next year as part of an exciting new visitor attraction in Wells.

Research into historic music undertaken as part of the project formed the basis of the workshops, alongside the choirs creating their own compositions inspired by the theme of home.

The results of those compositions have been woven together into a celebratory poem:

Burnt toast, malty seeded flour, shoes spilling off the shelf; a creaking building.
Home is where I belong.
The click of the heating coming on.
Air fryer beeping.
Where are your car keys?
Did you pull the flush?
Ping on my phone.
Silver guitar plectrum saying “Dad, I pick you”.
You can come as you are, come as you are, come as you are.
Green fields, Silver Birch trees.
Bird song, rustle of leaves.
Peace and security.
A pint or two of bottled brown beer.
A sanctuary, a place to retreat.
My radio. Radio 4. The Archers theme tune playing.
Rumpy pumpy pumpy paa, rumpy pumpy pa daa.
Home is returning to my dreams.
Safe. Secure. Space. Relax.
Cocoon. Cosy. Soothing.
Wind through the trees.
House creaking as it breathes.
The smell of home is cooking and clean sheets.
The feel of home is safety, feeling comfortable in my skin.
Home is not a building, it’s who’s around me.
Home is where they know you.
Home is liking your own thoughts, there’s power in it.
Power in solitude.
Home is an internal sense; it stays with you.
Being known to those around you.
Being left behind.
It’s the opportunity to leave your worries outside.
My home holds me.
Home is this landscape.
Home is when I come back to the Mendips.
Watching the sunset move over the seasons.
Church bells ringing on a Thursday night.
Rain drumming on the window.
Latches clicking on wooden doors.
Robins in the morning, blackbirds at night.
Walking, walking up to the top of the hill, looking down into Winscombe.
Barrington Combe and the green, green fields as you go down Redhill.
Out of the silence comes music.
A place to retreat.
A place to welcome others in.
Where our roots are.
Memories of families now gone.
Echoes of the past.
Memories of sound.
Coming home to ourselves.
To treasure who we are.
Our blue planet.
Hanging in the immense dark universe.
Sloppies and slippers.
Cooking and washing.
Space to be yourself.
The smell of mown grass.
Roses in Grandad’s buttonhole.
Robins defending their territory.
A buzzard soaring on the air.
The Mendips through our window.

Thank you to the choirs who took part: Axbridge Singers (Axbridge); Cheddar Valley Singers and Joyful Voices (Cheddar); Winscombe Community Singers (Winscombe); The Octagon Choir (Yeovil); Notables (Monkton Combe); Key Voices (Keynsham); Ston Easton Choir (Ston Easton); Wessex Women (Seavington); The Brue Boys (Bridgwater); and Songways (Bath).