May 2014
I've been thinking what could be worse
Than a grumpy old man writing childrens verse,
Calling on experience from his young days
Of the things he did and the games he played.
Now I'm not saying that I'm a grumpy old man
You can take from that whatever you can,
But I remember clearly being young
And even now my song's not yet sung.
When we were kids we used to know
Lots of places we could go,
And I never remember having a care
About stranger danger or anywhere,
That was ever out of bounds
Or if it was it was soon found,
And added to the itiniary
Of places to play for my mates and me.
We used to go into Clintz wood
Where the hiding places were so good
That sometimes you were never found
And by the time you dropped back to the ground,
Your mates had already headed home
And you had to leg it on your own,
But I don't remember feeling fear
Because growing up was great round here.
We would tell our **** we wouldn't be long
Usually a statement that was blatantly wrong,
And then we'd all gather to head up the edge of Dent
To play in Black Wood and my how quickly the time went.
Where it went to no one knows
We still have no idea where it goes,
But it always seemed that when we were having fun
Old Father Time always used to run
Much faster than when we were bored
Like a boiling kettle when ignored.
So before we knew it the sun was sinking
And we all knew our **** 'd be thinking
That we'd all up and ran away
And we hadn't just nipped out to play
A game of hide and seek in Clintz Wood,
They'd think we all were gone for good.
So as the sun sank in the Western sky
We all started to run my mates and I,
Back down the hill onto the road
Which led us back to our abode.
And when we got back we saw
Waiting outside each front door
Angry mothers waiting to bend our ears
And tell us of their imagined fears
That we'd been pinched by the bogey man,
Or sunk in a pond or quicksand,
Or fallen off a cliff or from a tree
Then afterwards we'd all be
Given a cuddle and our supper then
We'd all be in bed long before ten.
Yes kids today have a lot more
Things that they do behind a door,
Lots of things with which to play
Lots of things which seem to say
That freedom lost can be replaced
By objects owned and possessions chased.
I know that this will never be true
And things you own will never teach you
The lessons we learned when we were little boys,
Simply by playing with Mother Nature's toys.
Tom Higgins 07/05/2014
Than a grumpy old man writing childrens verse,
Calling on experience from his young days
Of the things he did and the games he played.
Now I'm not saying that I'm a grumpy old man
You can take from that whatever you can,
But I remember clearly being young
And even now my song's not yet sung.
When we were kids we used to know
Lots of places we could go,
And I never remember having a care
About stranger danger or anywhere,
That was ever out of bounds
Or if it was it was soon found,
And added to the itiniary
Of places to play for my mates and me.
We used to go into Clintz wood
Where the hiding places were so good
That sometimes you were never found
And by the time you dropped back to the ground,
Your mates had already headed home
And you had to leg it on your own,
But I don't remember feeling fear
Because growing up was great round here.
We would tell our **** we wouldn't be long
Usually a statement that was blatantly wrong,
And then we'd all gather to head up the edge of Dent
To play in Black Wood and my how quickly the time went.
Where it went to no one knows
We still have no idea where it goes,
But it always seemed that when we were having fun
Old Father Time always used to run
Much faster than when we were bored
Like a boiling kettle when ignored.
So before we knew it the sun was sinking
And we all knew our **** 'd be thinking
That we'd all up and ran away
And we hadn't just nipped out to play
A game of hide and seek in Clintz Wood,
They'd think we all were gone for good.
So as the sun sank in the Western sky
We all started to run my mates and I,
Back down the hill onto the road
Which led us back to our abode.
And when we got back we saw
Waiting outside each front door
Angry mothers waiting to bend our ears
And tell us of their imagined fears
That we'd been pinched by the bogey man,
Or sunk in a pond or quicksand,
Or fallen off a cliff or from a tree
Then afterwards we'd all be
Given a cuddle and our supper then
We'd all be in bed long before ten.
Yes kids today have a lot more
Things that they do behind a door,
Lots of things with which to play
Lots of things which seem to say
That freedom lost can be replaced
By objects owned and possessions chased.
I know that this will never be true
And things you own will never teach you
The lessons we learned when we were little boys,
Simply by playing with Mother Nature's toys.
Tom Higgins 07/05/2014
