Memories of childhood days,
Where outside the children played.
When fathers worked and mum’s stayed home,
No latch key kids, or home alone.
We didn’t have a lot to eat,
School dinners were a welcome treat.
Cake and custard was the best,
wanting more like all the rest.
Tuesday was family allowance day,
butter roll then out to play,
Playing rounders with our mates,
Not going home until very late.
If you got bullied by another,
You didn’t dare go tell your mother.
For she would give your ear a slap,
Tell you go and hit them back.

Imagination was a wondrous thing,
boys made carts with wood and string.
Old pram wheels were the best,
race down hill was the test.
Battered and bruised we didn’t care,
two or three would often share.
Mum would shout, our trousers torn,
Patched up knees and bums all worn.

Blankets we had on our beds,
frozen fingers put between our legs.
Curled up in a ball shivering and cold,
dads old coat was like pure gold.
Wake up in the morning with nose of blue,
Jack Frost had painted the windows to.
We didn’t care what we would wear,
or even think to brush our hair.
Our parents didn’t have a lot,
no need had we the door to lock.
Neighbours helped out one another,
Children would respect their mother.
Memories of childhood years,
as clear today as yesteryears.