John Carter Brown

Oh for the days of ginger-beer
The days I hold so very dear;
Still vivid in my memory's eye
Games of hopscotch and eye-spy.
Saving jam-jars for the school
Catching 'cockies' in the pool;
Longing for my Christmas toys,
Making lots of childish noise.

Oh for the days of spinning-tops,
Playing robbers, playing cops;
Playing chiefs and indians too,
Paper feathers, paper glue.
Bouncing on the bed upstairs
After whispering my prayers;
Still I see myself at play,
So close but yet so far away.

Oh for the days of birthday jelly,
Watching popeye on the telly;
Bird-nesting upon the rec',
Dad insisting: 'Wash your neck! '
My torch of red and white and green,
Rolling out my plasticine;
Bats and stumps and cricket-balls,
Sweet young days at old St Pauls'.

(Written Aug 1996)