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Dr Tonks

Copyright Notice

Barbara Portlock asked me to write a song about Willenhall. "No-one has written a song about Willenhall" she said. So I did some research. Willenhall is all about lock making. I wasn’t inspired. When I told her, she said, "What about Dr Tonks?"

When I started to do some research on Dr Tonks, I was fascinated. He was born in 1855 and after graduating from Queen's College, Birmingham, rather than taking up a lucrative medical practice, decided to return to Willenhall where he helped the poorer people. As a result he became known as "The Poor Man's Doctor". He died at the early age of 36, following a freak accident during a balloon flight.

Following his death the  people of Willenhall formed a memorial committee and proposed to build a drinking fountain to honour the good doctor. However the money poured in and soon they had enough to add a clock with four faces to the fountain. What was remarkable about this was that the money for the clock was provided by the poor of Willenhall, as opposed to large donations from the wealthy, demonstrating the admiration and affection which was felt for him.

Further details can be obtained from The Willenhall Historical Society

If you go down to Willenhall Town you'll see the memorial clock
You might ask why it's there or perhaps you don't care
But I'll tell you it's for good Doctor Tonks
Dr Tonks helped the sick and he helped the poor
In Willenhall district around
The good honest Doctor gained the respect
Of everyone who lived in the town 

Some people are born with gold in their fist
Others are born just to die
Joseph Tonks was born with love in his heart
And a twinkle in his eye

Then one fateful day at a charity flight
At a balloon ascent at a fair
The balloon rose from the ground as the wind turned it round
And it crashed into buildings near there
Dr Tonks banged his head gashed his shoulder and leg
Climbed out saying "There's nothing to fear.
I'll soon be alright - I've just had a fright
Enjoy yourselves and be of good cheer"

In less than a year the good doctor had died
For his wounds were worse than he claimed
Until the very last day he still healed the poor
Whenever knocking on his door they came
When he died the town cried and vowed to their god
To do something to honour his name 
They built the big clock in the centre of town
And still we remember his fame