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 the gypsy poet

newtown day

I remember new town when i was just a kid
sherbet dabs after breakfast with liquorice on the lid
i remember the old school bell the playground where we played
the days seemed cold and long then in my childhood days

i remember the sea view that walk upon the hill
with coney's falling to the ground and squirrels a running still
i recall the little church with bell that rang each morn
the number 8 school bus and picnics on the lawn

i recall those simple days with dobbin on the heath
the walks across to Waterloo and the wide commons where we cut our teeth
old sankey ward the clay pits man and old buller archer too
where knotty built his caravans next to Trent's cars too
those rides up to the regal we called up on hill
the old brown rossmore bus i hear its running still
the old shoulder of mutton pub where only few could stand
the Albion where they played shove halfpenny when life was simply grand

the kids all played at conkers then and most were diddy kye
i ran around upon the heaths or at the fairgrounds shies
the gypsies roamed the heaths so free and spun a tale or two
i chased the gals around a lot and tied my laces too

some kids went to salvation hall to see Nativity's
i spent nights with granfer reg inside hamworthy engineering sites
we ate bread n cheese and chased with dogs a ferrit on the run
with strings of rabbits all in line up afore the sun

the school truant waterman he rode a bike with bell
you could see him coming down the lane like a dam foul smell
the roads were quieter those days and there was no TV
the gals picked flowers on the heath and we had bread n jelly for our tea

some kids played flick cards every day or marbles on the mac
you could buy  sweets for just half pence or take a high rise slide
the trees were tall and fine those days and we could climb them true
there was no silly strangers then and no foolish health and safety rules

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