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Waggoner Jack


Old Jack had been a Wag's Lad
In his very younger days
When wagons and their Shires
Moved the lanes and byways.
He became the Wag in time
And he recounted with pride
The first time he drove with
His  Wag's Lad by his side.

The years progressed slowly
After the horrors of the Great War,
Until there came a time when
Wags weren't needed anymore.
He managed to continue
Until his retirement day
Working with the Shires
On a local brewery dray.

He said goodbye to his horses
Settled down to retired life
Living as a lodger with
His brother and his wife
He'd visit and talk with dad
Take a mug of hot sweet tea
And every now and then
They'd try and include me.

Barely in my teens then,  
Already I knew it all,
The new generation,
The  first  of Rock 'n' Roll.
And both Jack and dad
Would listen with a smile
Not bothering to comment
On arguments  so juvenile.

I'm  past my three score years,
My supposedly allotted span,
Well on the way to being
Quite an elderly man,
Sitting in my chair now and
Those memories come back
Of talking over mugs of tea
With Dad and Waggoner Jack.
















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