Precious moments

Build yourself a trolley, you could go for miles,
Just some wood and pram wheels, nails and string and smiles,
Better than a Rolls Royce, was this thing you’d made,
Oh, the miles we travelled, oh, the games we played.

Roaming in the country, playing in the street,
Little scraggy urchins, with mud upon our feet,
Jumping walking climbing, for miles and miles and miles,
For nothing were we pining, faces wreathed with smiles.

Never had a wristwatch, never needed one,
When your mammy called you, that was time for home,
Time to quash your hunger, with a piece of bread,
Then off – away to dreamland – to rest your weary head.

Dreaming dreams of pleasure, building blocks so deep,
Holding to our treasure of memories there to keep,
Precious golden moments, of all the songs we’d sung,
The ‘Ring ‘O’ Ring ‘O’ Roses’ time, – of when we all were young!

Mick
(Copyright Michael Westwood 2014)