Withernwick, Saturday morning,
Catching the bus into Hull.
It's straggled here from Hornsea
Very often nearly full,
But If we were really lucky
We'd get that special treat
And climb up the stairs to sit
On the empty back seat.
I'm five and I'm excited
Looking forward to the toys.
On the trolley down Hessle Road
To the magic world of Boyes.
It seems they sell everything
That mam says she needs
From little bags of nails
To stuff for killing weeds.
And hanging up above
Whizzing about up there
Those magic cash containers that
Fly mysteriously through the air.
They whiz and they clatter
As they suddenly arrive
Mam used to tell me
It was a sort of magic drive.
Back on Hessle Road.
That thriving busy street
if I'd been considered good
I'd carry some little treat.
Then on to Carvers in the market,
Now known as Trinity Square,
Tented benches, sawdust floor,
Mushy peas and chips in there.
Wandering up Whitefriargate
Along Carr Lane and then
Paragon Station for the bus
That brought us home again.
We didn't have much money,
Mam and dad not much leisure,
So those odd trips to Hull were
Rare and remembered pleasure.
So many many years later
I still recall those joys.
Cherished childhood memories,
Saturdays shopping in Boyes.
