Yesteryear
The milkman delivered the bottles
The coal man kept us warm
Queuing to make a phone call
Was once considered the norm
We all had hand me down clothes
We also had our Sunday best
When Elvis shook his hips
Not everyone was impressed
Passed love letters in the classroom
Played marbles on a drain
If mum didn't have our pocket money
We wouldn't dare complain
We were told smoking was good for us
So we thought we'd give it a try
We coughed and choked and spluttered
And we never questioned why
We collected matchboxes and stamps
Played penny up the wall
Could play outside for hours
If someone had a ball
Wages still came in a packet
Seemingly bursting at the seams
A holiday in foreign lands
Was simply the stuff of dreams
Dad would be down the pub
On the day he got his wages
We'd never heard of google
We simply had the yellow pages
We took back the empty bottles
For pieces of silver and gold
We went to market and jumble sales
For the bargains being sold
We took pride in where we lived
Those streets on which we grew
Some may say its better now
I'm not so sure that's true
We kids had a sip of babycham
Or sneaked a drop of dad's beer
Looking back it seems so innocent
Those glorious days of yesteryear
©Danny Fenn the boleyn poet©
The coal man kept us warm
Queuing to make a phone call
Was once considered the norm
We all had hand me down clothes
We also had our Sunday best
When Elvis shook his hips
Not everyone was impressed
Passed love letters in the classroom
Played marbles on a drain
If mum didn't have our pocket money
We wouldn't dare complain
We were told smoking was good for us
So we thought we'd give it a try
We coughed and choked and spluttered
And we never questioned why
We collected matchboxes and stamps
Played penny up the wall
Could play outside for hours
If someone had a ball
Wages still came in a packet
Seemingly bursting at the seams
A holiday in foreign lands
Was simply the stuff of dreams
Dad would be down the pub
On the day he got his wages
We'd never heard of google
We simply had the yellow pages
We took back the empty bottles
For pieces of silver and gold
We went to market and jumble sales
For the bargains being sold
We took pride in where we lived
Those streets on which we grew
Some may say its better now
I'm not so sure that's true
We kids had a sip of babycham
Or sneaked a drop of dad's beer
Looking back it seems so innocent
Those glorious days of yesteryear
©Danny Fenn the boleyn poet©
