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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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