As I look back to my youth all those years ago
My memories quite clear, my thoughts they do flow.
My school days were happy, I started age five
Aspirations not high, just a need to survive.
“Red yead fire bucket” they’d call my auburn hair
Head high, eyes straight ahead, look as not to care.
Push Tommy Marshall to school four times a day
Up hill and down dale, bright day or grey.
Tommy copied my school work, he found school a bore
In return he gave me the remains of his apple, yes just the core!
On Sunday’s Dad and I would walk for miles on end
We would stop off at the pub and then home we would wend.
My Dad was a miner; he’d work hard all day
Cut twist with his pen knife for his pipe of clay.
Mom would cook meals and send me shopping to buy
She kept two pigs in the garden in a building called a sty.
The butcher would visit and he’d cure the meat
Although we were poor we would be sure of a treat.
I’d go the church with Mom, three times on Sunday
At the age of seven I was crowned Queen of the May.
Mom would take in washing, a basket for a shilling
The need to make ends meet, this she was willing.
At eighty four years old and time passing fast
Just one thing I’ve got, that’s memories to last.
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