The Way Things Used To Be.

The Way Things Used To Be


Three half-pence worth of sherbet
and a stick of liquorice,
bubble gum and arrow bars.
Some of the things I miss.

In summer, bluebell picking.
How it filled us with delight.
We’d trudge home with arms laden
before onset of  night.

We’d play hide and seek or tag,
or else kiss chase with the boys. 
Days were filled with harmless fun
not with expensive toys.

There was sunshine ev'ry day,
or at least that’s how it felt-
sitting on the cobblestones
wishing the tar would melt.

We’d pull it out and roll it
into marbles, big and black.
My friend was so good at it- 
I never had the knack.                   

A rope swing hanging over
a ditch with shallow stream
gave hours of entertainment.
It was our every dream.

Life was carefree in those days
although wealth did not abound.
Parents made sure that we kept
feet firmly on the ground.

We were cheerful, we were loved,
we were happy, we were free.
I remember happy times-
the way things used to be.