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Poem

There's an old family shop that sells ciggies and pop,
plus Mars Bars and aspirins and tinned Winnalot.
Then just past the shop there's a small patch of green,
where kids playing football can sometimes be seen,
on its edge there's a bench to give old bones a rest,
and a rusty red see-saw that's way past its best,
                                    down at the end of our road.

Mrs. Mullholland in twin set and pearls, has two mangy cats that are known as 'her girls';
and she sits in a deckchair with biscuits and tea,
plus both of 'her girls' fast asleep on her knee.
There's some girls playing hopscotch and giggling at boys,
while their runny nosed siblings sit lost in their toys,
                                     down at the end of our road.

Most of the families have lived here for years,
and they whisper in groups when a new one appears.
Ernie McPherson at number nineteen,
has a spyglass he uses to take in the scene,
and they'd all be amazed at the sights that he's seen,
                                       down at the end of our road.

But now things are changing, it started last week,
the builders arrived and it's looking quite bleak.
There are fences and scaffolds and two wrecking balls,
and there's dust in the street as another house falls,
we've lived here for years by an unwritten code,
but now it's the end of this sweet episode,
and I think it's -
                                        the end of our road.

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