Poetry

Those Really Were The Days

I remember the days of my childhood

And the bread we cut with a knife

When as kids many errands we run

And our Dads went to work, not their Wife

Who of us had even heard of a Fridge

But the Bread was so crusty and hot

We can’t ever remember being unhappy

And Mom was content with her lot

I remember the coal in the cellar

And the slack that was always on top

Our dinner came from the oven

And not from the fridge in the shop

As kids we were a lot more contented

We didn’t need money for kicks

But it was great playing glarnies in the gutter

And looking forward to the Saturday Flicks

Remember the Shop on the corner

Where a penneth of rocks was sold

Am I being a bit too nostalgic

Or is it just me getting old

© Bob Bolter of Gt Brook Street

Our Dad and Me

We used to sneak off fishing, my old Dad and me

To anywhere there was water, that was where we'd be

To Walsall or to Stourbridge, by the Severn at Holt Fleet

To Alrewas by the river Trent, or the Claines where the rivers meet

To Ward end park, or Edgebaston, to Salford by the pool

All dressed up in fishing gear, I thought I looked so cool

To the Fazeley cut up Tyburn road, or Lapworth pound's we'd go

Not only in the summer, we've been in sleet and snow

We'd be away from home for hours, catch the early morning bus

Then sit down and start fishing, just the two of us

We'd take cold bacon sarnies, a great big flask of tea

Half a loaf of buttered toast and a bag of crisps (for me)

Our Dad's passed on now (bless him), he's just a memory

But if he came back tomorrow, I know just where we'd be

ERIC HILL

Devon Street School – First Day

I used to go to Devon Street,

To a school they called Saint Anne’s,

My sisters went there before me,

It was part of our Dad’s plans.

‘They’ll learn you things,’ our Dad said,

With a twinkle in his eye,

‘Now have you got your sarnies?

Don’t you look smart, my boy!’

I cried and cried, I done me best,

Took off me shirt, stamped on me vest,

It didn’t work, Dad held me down,

Mom dressed me up, and gave a frown.

‘Come on, our Eric, you're gonna be late,

Our Linda’s waiting by the gate.’

So down the path, dragging me feet,

I went crying and moaning down Devon Street.

Eventually they got me there,

Mom spit on her hand and smoothed me hair,

Then spit on her hankie and wiped me face,

Making sure there was nothing out of place.

The playground was full of screaming kids,

All playing different games,

Like Hop Scotch, Skipping, Hide and Seek,

Boys calling girls bad names.

Suddenly a bell rang out,

The playground now was quiet,

All the kids went and stood in lines,

That teacher had stopped a riot!

The kids were filed off to Assembly,

We were shown round the school hall,

This place was the prison that kept me,

Them six years felt like life to us all.

Eric. C. Hill©

Dear Elaine (love letters)

From that first day when I met you, I knew that you would be

The girl I’d love forever, until eternity

I asked you out and you said “yes” my heart was full of pride

Years later you said, “yes” again, you agreed to be my Bride

We married at St Andrews, in July of seventy-three

I left my home at Bromford, and joined your family

After six months we got lucky, we’d saved, bought this and that

We got ourselves our first home, in a Chelmsley high rise flat

We tried for children straight away, but it was not to be

It took four years of heartache, until Sarah made us three

Young Eric came in seventy-nine, our family now was four

We was so proud and happy, we could ask for nothing more

Now thirty years have past us, our kids will soon move on

But we will still be Lovers, still together, still as one

by Eric C Hill

Our Wench

Our Wench has had a Babby; she’s named her little Chloe

Our Chloe weighed in at eight pound one, on April the eighth you know

She’s me first and only Grandchild, the apple of me eye

I’ve told our Wench ter get cracking

This time I want a Boy!

by Eric C Hill

Why Dad Why

Where does the sun go at night-time

My son once asked of me

And where does the moon go in day-time

He asked so seriously

I struggled to find an answer

That he could understand

Like how the earth keeps spinning

And how the planets travel around

But suddenly I looked down

At blue eyes and blond curled head

I could only give one answer

I said son they go to bed

by Eric C Hill

Brummagem

Have you ever been in New Street For the January sales

Have you been in Yates’s Wine Lodge Sipping spirits or supping ale’s

Have you walked down through the Bull Ring when it’s packed on market day

Listened to the ranters disagreed with what they say

Have you walked up Corporation Street, the Law Court’s there you know

And Lewis’s and Rackhams, people rushing to and fro

Have you ever watched a horror at the Gaumont for a fright

Then waited for the last bus home in Digbeth at midnight

Have you been down to St Martins have you prayed with all the rest

For wars to end, for crops to grow, for Warwick’s to win the Test

Have you ever been to the Alex or the Hippodrome to a show

The Town Hall and Museums are also places you should go

If you haven’t then you’re lucky, see it all then have a rest

Cos once you’ve seen our Brummagem

You’ll know you’ve seen the best

Eric. C. Hill

The Good Old Days

When I were a Boy and men were Men

And Women moaned once but never again

When times were hard and so were Beds

When Cheeky Kids could be slapped round the heads

And Policemen and Teachers were shown respect

Cos Punishment come hard - what did you expect

If you did it once and never got caught

You did it again without any thought

But get caught once and feel some pain

You tend to think twice before doing it again

These days the kids will mug for coke

When caught the sentence is just a joke

Give me the days of crystal sets

Hiding up entry’s putting on bets

Staying out till seven - what a lark

Better get in its getting dark

Give me the old days - I’d rather look back

I can’t look forward to taking crack

Eric. C. Hill©

Uncle Percy

I’ve an uncle who lives in the country

So needing a change I took off

He’s me aunt’s only brother still living

And he’s always bin good for a loff

I thought I’ll surprise him and turn up

Without calling – I’ll give him a shock

When I got there an old man surprised me

Saying “where are you headed old cock”

I’m a stranger round here - I informed him

Come to visit me old uncle Purse

He said “sorry old mate – but yer four days too late

Fact yerve onny just missed old boys earse”

But don’t fret me old son – yo’ll catch up if ya run

Just turn left at the Pub down the street

“I said right” – he said “left - are yo stupid or deaf”

I said “thanks” turning red as a beet

So I ran like the wind through the village

Turning left by the pub down the street

It was there I bumped into the mourners

And guess who’se the fust one I meet

It was Purse – yes my Purse - not the one in the Hearse

But my Purse who I’d come down to meet

He said, “ What’s up old cock, had a bit of a shock”

When I told him he loffed till he wheezed

“There was two on us born in this Village,” he said

“We wuz given the very same name”

It’s bin fun over the years - but the Villager’s cursed

Cos we always give t’other the blame

Well, we loffed till we cried, cos our Purse hadn’t died

And we buried his namesake in style

Fact we drunk the pub dry and our Purse had a cry

Then we went to his farm for a while

It’s bin years since that time I went down there

To that Farm owned by old uncle Purse

But I think I’ll go back there this summer

Onny this time - I think I’ll ring first

Feelings

Comfort me when all is lost

and I am in despair

Laugh with me elated

when life is without care

Hold me close when I show brave face to the world

for there is turmoil within

And love me without question as new days begin

By Shirley Hill

Precious One’s

Come to us our precious ones

when life seems very bad

Come to us when your’e lonely

worried or sad

A trouble shared is halved they say

we hope to make that true

So come to us our precious ones

cos mom and dad love you.

By Shirley Hill

Up The Lickeys

Our Dad he worked at the Morris, he had to work all the hours,

But on Saturday and Sunday, well, those days were ours.

Mom would get up early; she made sandwiches galore;

There was Spam and cheese and pickles, for her it was never a chore.

Then we went up the Lickeys, we would stand and scream and shout,

Run up, run down, like someone they had just let out.

The steps we would climb, two at a time, till we reached the very top,

I remember one day running down that fast I couldn’t stop.

Dad shouted ‘Put your arms out, hold on to the trees’,

Mom stood up concerned; after a while I came to a halt, but Ooh! I did hurt my knees!

At the top of the Lickeys you can see all of it, lovely and clear,

But as our Linda said ‘You ain’t got the gas works up here!’

Rose’s Café was always special, we all loved it there,

Mom and Dad would have cakes and tea, for us crisps and ginger beer.

After tea it was the Penny Arcade, we were going to win a stack,

But as usual it happened, we put all our money back.

‘Can we have some candy floss?’ ‘You'll have to wait and see.’

Pink sugar swirling round a stick, we all watched with glee.

‘Give Eric the first, he's the youngest.’

Our Glenys had popcorn, well, they lasted the longest.

Eh, we’ll have to rush, here comes the bus,

We’ve got tinned fruit, Carnation cream and salad for our tea,

We’ve made our minds up, we’ll eat till we burst,

But our Mom would look, the message was took.

‘You'll eat the bread and butter first!’

Shirley R.Hill