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the old pick and shovel accordion daysvictor clapcott was a true accordion man i heard him playing at the pick n shovel in old Poole town was when my aunt Winnie freemantle wore her rogers wedding gown you could buy a round then for less than half a crown he could play that music like no one id heard since or before we played postman's knock outside that old pub door there was a cemetery just across the way the pubs well gone now its a Chinese restaurant now a days the streets were narrow and the quay was grand we strolled on ladies walking field where bus station now stands they sold it off and the canford bourne heath too gave us baiter point and the arundales view Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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