1, 440 Minutes The school bell announces "time to go home",

What a long and monotonous day

The unwilling scholar sighs his relief,

And welcomes the thoughts of his play.

The young mum despairs, her hours fly so fast,

She cannot cope with her daily chores.

She cannot sleep at night, she really needs rest,

But cannot for those manly snores.

The workman however, feels his hours like a day

He wishes he was back into school.

Trudges home, tea to hand, a "kip" in his chair,

Then out for a "bevvy", how cool.

And what about us in our twilight years?

The hours just seem to fly.

With lifetime memories to warm our hearts

Of happy days flown by.

Each day contains its 24 hours,

To each of us, seen short or long.

Try to enjoy each one in your day,

Make your time an unending song. By Mary Heppenstall

Ainsworth Square, Bolton

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.