What's In There Mum - Pud? Poem by Ian Keenan

What's In There Mum - Pud?

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When fires were lit with kindling wood
And knotted paper wreaths,
And Dad prepared the toffee sticks to see us
Four so pleased,
When Mum called out for us to come when
She had made the teas,
Then we were small and happy,
David, Roger, Ann and me.

We used to walk to Hancocks Woods
Across the old black bridge,
And wait for monster trains below to soot
Our socks with bits,
Then ran to join the black-hand gang
In a stone fight at the pit,
I hiding in an old tin hut,
Afraid of being hit.

Ann was brave in saving us from
Bullies down the lane,
And Roger brave in taking Dave to
Talk to Sue and Jane,
While I remained upon my bike
Or fiddled with the chain,
My tongue too shy to say the words,
My heart quite lost in pain.

While Dave and Ann stayed close to home
I and Roger moved,
The links of smells and memories
We'd shared remaining good -
The time I came in from the back
In search of Mum and food,
And patted on the oven, asking
'What's in there, Mum - pud? '

Tuesday, June 14, 2016
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