Dedicated to Ian’s Grandad, George Edwin Chesterman.

Grandfather to Ron, Ken and Ian.

I see more than a violin,

I see the tall Atlantic breakers pounding on a foreign shore,

And the ship that’s under steam as she’s homeward bound once more,

I see a man in a white coat, a steward of the line,

Serving coffee on a tray as ten bells start to chime,

And there’s an old musician with a black, long, wooden case,

The steward stops to talk to him and I recognise his face,

Case changes hands and money too and the steward goes below,

And in his cabin he opens it and takes out a violin and bow,

A present for his brother, a present from the sea,

And when the voyage ends to his family goes he,

I see a port just through the mist, I think it’s Liverpool,

But the picture’s changing rapidly and now on a fireside stool

I see and old man sitting and recalling seventy years,

And I know that I was dreaming and I can’t hold back the tears,

But even that’s now gone and the screen’s empty again,

Though any time I can look at it and still the film’s the same,

I see more than a violin.

I See More Than a Violin was written by our dear friend Ian Chesterman, a remarkable wordsmith and songwriter whose songs, poems and stories touched so many lives.

Ian’s wife, Ann, recently entrusted Brian Jones with a collection of poems Ian had written as a young man. Among them was this poem, a particular favourite of Ann’s, written when Ian was only around 22 years old.

The poem tells the story of Ian’s beloved grandfather, a cabin steward aboard the PSN Orellana, who purchased a violin from a musician during one of his voyages as a gift for his brother.

The instrument eventually made its way down through the family to Ian himself, becoming far more than simply a violin. It was a treasured connection to family, memory and the seafaring heritage that so often inspired his writing.

Like so many of Ian’s finest works, I See More Than a Violin transforms an ordinary object into something much deeper, reminding us that the things we inherit can carry with them the stories and memories of those who came before us.

The violin now resides with the family of Ian’s brother, Ron, in Australia – but through Ian’s words, its journey continues.

Our sincere thanks to Ann for entrusting Ian’s collection to us and allowing us to share this very special piece of his story.