Those were the days of my birth,
we had little and made our own mirth,
yes, those were the halcyon days.
When cats were fed on kitchen scraps,
every skirting board had a mousehole,
windows were wonderfully patterned in winter,
and breath clouds arose above the blankets.
National Dried Milk and cod liver oil
rationed orange juice, syrup of figs and milk of magnesia.
Shopping on Saturdays for the week's leftovers,
bacon ribs from the butchers,
broken biscuits from the grocers.
Hares and pheasants hanging on hooks,
In the fruiterers-poulterers-florists,
the mingling of garden and gamy smells.
Low tapping on the back door at night,
Dad pays for freshly poached Severn salmon.
Clothes passed down to the younger ones,
shoes too, if the toes were not too scuffed
from the tin can and stones on the way to school.
Initials carved in desktops,
love notes as paper planes,
frogs down the back of girls' dresses,
and fond-tugging of pigtails,
to claim the kiss behind the bicycle sheds.
Small-bottled milk and warmish school dinners,
dinner ladies in food-spotted smocks.
grazed knees in short trousers,
jackets and scarves for football posts,
hopscotch and rope -skipping in the street,
full time at twilight when mothers called for supper.
homework at the kitchen table,
accompanied by the background tones
of Mrs Dale's Diary and the Archers,
then listening with Dad to Journey into Space
or Dick Barton - Special Agent on the radio.
Once a year crowded into the telephone box,
windows misted up - press button A,
to call Uncle Jack in Australia.
Nettle stings and dock leaves,
good for bottom wiping in the woods too,
bluebells everywhere and skylarks galore.
Workers' outings with Nana to the seaside,
scramble for the back seat, wipe the window clean,
sucking rock on the promenade in a Kiss Me Quick hat,
and a penny for the Laughing Policeman.
"Show Me the Way to Go Home" in a drowsy busful,
sipping cider as a special treat,
shoulder shaking - "we're there",
lit windows and a fire in the grate,
cocoa warmed up from the kettle on the hob,
off to a hot-water-bottle bed,
the young ones already asleep across the room,
those were halcyon days.