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)
Oh yes, oh for those days of childhood bliss, when you didn't really want to kiss, you didn't want your great Aunt Sue to pinch your cheeks all black and blue - I loved this poem - well done you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great memories from a time gone by many thanks for a great read.