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May 13, 2016



Bruised and battered

through rough and tumble.

A knee full of cinders,

heard Mother grumble.


Out all day long

swinging from trees.

In all kinds of weathers –

sunshine and freeze.


Before ‘Health & Safety’

back in the day,

down on the farm

hiding in, bales of hay.


And up for a prank

playing tip-latch.

Whilst quick slight of hand

needed for Jacks.


Many a glass-alley

lost down a grid;

all part of life

when as a kid


nothing too problematic

stuck in the mind –

everyone an inventor

of a simplistic kind.


Just mauling about,

but never a threat.

Playing back-street footy

in the rain, soaking wet.


Feeling safe as houses,

everyone’s door open wide.

Nothing worth stealing

was there inside.


A thre’penny bit or a tanner

given weekly from birth.

Paper money, a fortune

if ten bob, one was worth.


Legs, the best form of transport-

a stick aiding the hike,

or a real tour-de-force

if one posh, with a bike.


How far we have come,

Great-Grandparents recall,

reflecting on their lives,

now we have it all.


No wonder they frown

and think us spoilt to bits,

The best teachers are they,

with wise words from their lips.














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