Hello old friend I've come to see How time has fared For you and me From distant days In white trilby With metal cased Laboratory
You've kept well I note New cobbles, posts and signs Adorn your ancient routes Some familiar names I see Comfortable but cool to me Some names hollow or tired Some refreshed and bright French antiques have shut their door And Kwiksave now a factory store Butcher, baker ghostly corpses Faced yes, but blank and still Emmaβs cookware welcome calm A mess of pots bright and warm Some old rogues still lurk Catching breath βtil evening And time for more half hearted cooking
There's money spent It's the rural modern I like and loath it all at once Which isn't fair because It is me that grew old Uttoxeter changed For better for worse I mourn my youth But glad still more For remembrance sake