WHEN Mr Arnold Harrison wrote a few weeks ago about his childhood, and a visit to Deane Clough, it brought back memories to Mrs Joyce E. Robinson, who used to live in Bolton, came back to live here, and then returned to Somerset because she could not settle again in Bolton.
She has sent me this poem, which was written by her first husband, Robert Anthony, who was brought up in Sandon Street, Daubhill, but who died 26 years ago. 'He didn't get to finish the poem, as you will see,' she writes, 'but it did bring back a lot of memories, even to me.' And I am sure it will do to other people (should you remember Mrs Robinson and wish to contact her, she lives at 19 Parsonage Court, Bishops Hull, Taunton, Somerset, TA1 5HR.)
But please, dear readers, don't all start sending me poetry for this column. Today's use of verse is an exception; other such contributions should be sent to Poet's Corner! WHEN I was a kid and times were rough
We'd walk for miles and miles
Right up Scout Road or down Deane Clough
Our faces alive with smiles.
We'd have some bread and water too
And we'd climb and climb with zest
And when we'd got to top
We thought we'd conquered Everest.
Days full of fun, although we'd 'nowt'
With tattered shirt lap hanging out
Just an old bottle filled 'wi watter'
We didn't care, it didn't matter.
World were our Oyster then
We'd go up hill, down dale, and when
The evening sun started to go down
We'd set off back towards 'thowd' town.
Town Hall clock were our best mark
We could still see it when it were dark
With its face lit up all sounds and clear
As if to say -- 'Well I'm still here'.
Tired but happy, we'd get back to the house
Not noisy now, more like a mouse
We'd flop down tired with aching feet
er! we'd happy times when we lived in that street.
Sometimes we'd go up by 'Pea Bells'
Past Townson's Timber Yard, with smells
of wood all drying out
'with' Daisy fields somewhere about.
Up towards Thomas' Farm Lane
With three posts stuck up like a sentry
You'd never guess in a thousand years
It was called 'Squeeze yer belly entry'.
Down into dip o'er stream we ran
Down past Golf Links, then began
To feel our feet all wet and squelchy
Then over to the left we'd go past 'Milches'
Sometimes we'd go fishing 'theer'
or swimming, if there were no-one near
We'd follow 't' narrow twisting path
And then we'd come to Plodder Lane
To 'the little' shop down two stone stops
And off we'd go again
Next we'd come to top o'th heights
And on to Billy's brow
Piano house were up ont' left
It's been pulled down though now.
Down Sapling Road and Morris Green
There were no pub there then
Past Ellesmere Club and 'th allotments'
Then right back home again.
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