miguel
07-30-2007, 08:17 PM
GREY FLANNELS AND BOOTS
"Aye, yer right." was all he said;
Nostalgia held my tongue.
The memories came flooding back,
When Fred and I were young.
The tram lines, cobbled streets of course,
Their rattle and the bell.
The smell of leather seats and oil -
"Yes, I recall them well."
"The pennies!" Fred said with a smile.
"Ah, yes! Those heaven sent.
We placed them on the tram lines,
Just to see them nice an' bent."
He took another drink or two,
His glass was nearly dry:
"Let me buy another, Fred...."
"I think.....' I heard him sigh.
"Remember all those windows,
The ones above the door....
With battleships and frigates;
It was of course the war!"
I smiled and thought of Lambeth Road,
Its little terraced homes.
The windows chamois-leathered clean;
Their steps all holy stoned.
The horse drawn carts, the drover's shout,
And soldiers on parade;
The ration books, the slipper baths -
The rosy cheeks they made.
Sagging school and getting caught,
The queues for 'Nitty Norah'.
A fine tooth comb an' smelly stuff,
Put on by sis' or Dorah.
"The bloody cane was bad enough!"
"Ah, yes; I'm glad that's gone;
The good old days weren't all that good...
When all is said and done."
"We used to go long walks." he smiled;
"Along the Leeds canal.
Of course it was all fields back then;
Alone or with my pal."
"I wonder where he ended up...
I often wonder that!"
"The war?" I ventured quiet like.
"Oh, no! Too young for that."
"Australia, I think it might have been -
A tenner then you know:
Just sign here and just sign there,
And off to sea you go."
"Then there was the 'angings -
You know, at Walton Gaol.
There wasn't many murders then,
Like on the present scale."
"Is that the time? Best bottoms up;
I'll catch it, wait and see."
"It's okay, Fred, just tell the wife -
You've had a drink with me."
"Aye, yer right." was all he said;
Nostalgia held my tongue.
The memories came flooding back,
When Fred and I were young.
The tram lines, cobbled streets of course,
Their rattle and the bell.
The smell of leather seats and oil -
"Yes, I recall them well."
"The pennies!" Fred said with a smile.
"Ah, yes! Those heaven sent.
We placed them on the tram lines,
Just to see them nice an' bent."
He took another drink or two,
His glass was nearly dry:
"Let me buy another, Fred...."
"I think.....' I heard him sigh.
"Remember all those windows,
The ones above the door....
With battleships and frigates;
It was of course the war!"
I smiled and thought of Lambeth Road,
Its little terraced homes.
The windows chamois-leathered clean;
Their steps all holy stoned.
The horse drawn carts, the drover's shout,
And soldiers on parade;
The ration books, the slipper baths -
The rosy cheeks they made.
Sagging school and getting caught,
The queues for 'Nitty Norah'.
A fine tooth comb an' smelly stuff,
Put on by sis' or Dorah.
"The bloody cane was bad enough!"
"Ah, yes; I'm glad that's gone;
The good old days weren't all that good...
When all is said and done."
"We used to go long walks." he smiled;
"Along the Leeds canal.
Of course it was all fields back then;
Alone or with my pal."
"I wonder where he ended up...
I often wonder that!"
"The war?" I ventured quiet like.
"Oh, no! Too young for that."
"Australia, I think it might have been -
A tenner then you know:
Just sign here and just sign there,
And off to sea you go."
"Then there was the 'angings -
You know, at Walton Gaol.
There wasn't many murders then,
Like on the present scale."
"Is that the time? Best bottoms up;
I'll catch it, wait and see."
"It's okay, Fred, just tell the wife -
You've had a drink with me."