There were meadows to play in when I was a lass
With a gentle meandering stream
Where wild lillies grew
And forget-me-nots too
By a pond where the frogs used to spawn
But they've covered my meadow with concrete
The stream has been piped underground
No lillies abound
Where the tadpoles were found
There's a pub where the pond used to be.
There were woodlands to wander when I was a lass
With bluebells - a carpet of blue
Where a nightingale sang
When the Angelus rang
From the beech tree which I used to climb.
But they've plundered my wonderful woodland,
The bluebells they've buried below
A motorway rends
The valleys and glens
There's a bridge where the beech tree once stood.
And I'm sad when remembering my days as a lass
But we cannot live in the past.
So to hell with nostalgia!
March on to tomorrow
Greet every new day with a smile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.