Let's walk down memory lane.

Them sirens took my mind back
Stirred thoughts inside my brain
So close your eyes and come with me
Let's walk down memory lane.

Can you remember during war
When times were really hard
Ration books and gas masks
And shithouse right down yard.

Everybody else were same
It weren't just us you know
To have a shite you had to trudge
Thro' rain and wind and snow.

You lit a little candle
But cos all lights were banned
You had to stop it glowing
By shielding it wi' your hand.

You trudged off down the garden path
And then without a doubt
Just as you reached the shithouse door
Wind blew the bugger out.

Aye, them six-inch squares of paper
Cut from Daily Mail
Hole poked in and string thro'
Hung on a four-inch nail.

All't door had a gap at bottom
Of every door in street
So if anyone were in there
Folk could see your feet.

If you were in at night time
And it was black as anything
It paid to whistle loudly
Or just sit there and sing.

You had to make some sort of noise
Of that there was no doubt
In them days doors didn't open in
They always opened out.

I learnt to read in't toilet
I swear it's really true
Well when you're five and innocent
There's not much else to do.

What about the old tin bath
Now that you must recall
Four feet long and made of zinc
Hung on coalhouse wall.

Fetched in't house, just once a week
By 'eck that were a sight
A steaming bath in front o' fire
Every Friday night.

Me brothers and me sisters bathed
And they did it proper
'Cos me mam kept poppin' in and out
Wi' hot water from the copper.

Bath night for me was rotten
One of my worst fears
'Cos me mam had big long finger nails
And she always washed me ears.

She always scrubbed my back as well
It made me feel quite sick
Instead of using flannel
I'm sure she used a brick.

Remember shiny fireplace
Blackleaded by your mother
Bif wide oven on one side
And a boiler stuck on't other.

We never had a lot of food
Got thro' on faith and hope
But if your dad worked down a pit
Ya' had extra cheese and soap.

When air raid sirens sounded
That long and eerie drone
Some hid under kitchen table
And some under pantry stone.

A mattress there to lie on
To wait for t'raid to pass
A wet blanket draped on pantry door
To keep out mustard gas.

And when the raid were over
And we'd nothing else to fear
We shouted sod off Hitler
And ya' can't get us in here.

We didn't have eggs in egg shells
Or soap in scented blocks
Just great big slabs of dark green soap
And egg powder in a box.

Powdered milk and saccharine
No fruit 'cos times were bleak
But wi' coupons from the ration book
We got four ounces bacon every week.

Iron railings disappeared
From schools and parks and things
They took our slides and roundabouts
They even took our swings.

All the steel it had to go
Without a please or thanks
For making guns and bullets
Aeroplanes and tanks.

Remember air raid wardens
They were all red-faced and stout
Shouting up and down the street
Get that light put out!

We couldn't get a decent smoke
Black market weren't allowed
So all we got were pashas
Grand Turk and passing cloud.

These fags were meant for puffers
No for me or mine
No Craven 'A', a good Park Drive
Or me favourite old Woodbine.

Times were hard and that's a fact
But one thing was for sure
Folks were kind and honest
No need to lock your door.

Nothing much was ever pinched
No need to count the cost
To pinch owt good from our house
They got to bring the bugger fost.

They made us dig for victory
But you couldn't do as you please
If you only had a window box
Tha grew cabbages or peas.

For them wi' big allotments
Government gave them seeds
But all they grew were parsnips
And bloody great big swedes.

We had no joint on Sunday
But crafty was our mam
She said we're having beef today
She conned us, it were spam.

At school they gave us stuff called mop
Coloured brown like soil
It tasted bloody awful
Just like cod liver oil.

There were no chocs or toffees
Just stuff that burnt no end
Like Imps or No. 10 drops
Or some called Fisherman's Friends.

We didn't have much for Christmas
Just simple things and yet
We enjoyed ourselves, were grateful
For owt that we could get.

Times were hard, but happy
But no matter what some say
I think they're off their trolley
To call 'em good ol' days.

If they were good, God help us
They were tough, let's make that plain
Compared to what we've got today
We don't want 'em back again.

At school we had to exercise
That didn't do owt for me
Jumping up and down like prats
This stuff were called PT.

I only went just for a laugh
To have a look, it's true
At all the girls in floppy vests
And knickers, navy blue.

Big pairs of boots, we used to wear
Stuck on end of our legs
Soles were full of heavy nails
And metal things called segs.

We used to go to work in these
And as far as I can tell
When we played football, with a tin
We wore them boots as well.

By eck they gid us bruises
I remember to this day
Only tough or barmy sods
Were daft enough to play.

Ya must remember 'vacuees
Every street had some
Kids from Coventry, London
And loads from Birmingham.

They walked them up and down the street
I see it now, by eck
Wi' suitcase and a gasmask
Their name tag round their neck.

Me mam, she picked a posh kid
His name was Malcolm Rose
He couldn't fight, or climb a tree
He never picked his nose.

He stayed wi' us till end o' war
And never had a smack
I got blamed for all he did
I was glad when he went back.

But kids were safe in them days
We could always play in't park
Old folks were free to go outside
Even after dark.

If you were sick and saw the doctor
You got treated there, at once
No filling in a stupid form
And going back in six long months.

We were content and happy
In those far off days
We seemed content and caring
In so many different ways.

We all had little problems
Troubles and some strife
We had to grin and bear it
It was a fact of life.

But as we sit here thinking
Recalling all those years
We just remember good times
Forget the pain and tears.

We remember all the blessings
Our home and all the love
The times we shared together
And we thank the Lord above.

It's nice to sit and reminisce
Us oldies, we declare
These tales are true, believe us
We know, 'cos we were there.

S.Swan

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