Yesterday's Children

We are yesterdays children, from not long ago, when life was simple and never too slow.
Our imagination was our special gift, with the home made dolls house, or pram from the tip,and old bits of wood cut till they fit. Hand me down clothes that started with dad, no fancy names or computer games. Run many a race in our bare feet, played cricket
and football at the end of the street. Cowboys and Indians till we all dropped dead. A cubby house hidden in the bush, where we stored all our secrets and told our rude jokes.
The ninepenny pictures on Saturday morning,
spend yer tuppenny bus fare in spite of a warning.
The old tin bath perhaps once a week.
Homemade haircuts and wellies that leaked.
Bread and jam or dripping, and sometimes treacle for licking.
Boiled bones in the pot, not often a lot, rolly poly with jam on the top.
Some things I miss, some things I don't, but boys were boys
and girls were girls, it was a rough and tumble way to live,
we survived and thrived and found our way,
without all the fuss they make today.
And now the world is full of noise, and everybodys right, arguing
Over trivial things, while millions die out of sight. The "shameless
rich" and "ratbag mob" are the new revised Bible.
I'm glad I am one of yesterdays children, when life was simple
And never too slow.

Mick Leigh ©2002.



Tal