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Things Have Changed
By Robert (Bob) Moore

When I was young, the doctor, came around if I got sick
gave me a pill, or needle, and that would do the trick
but thing have changed, and now we ring, his receptionist
who tells us, “you can come next week. I’ll put you on the list”

So you go round, the next week, sit in a little room
full of germs and sick folk, the air so full of gloom
yes he says, you’ve had the flu, his hand upon my brow
just stay home, don’t catch a chill, he says this to me now.

And then there was the milkman, came round every day
you can catch up next week missus, if you couldn’t pay
leave money on the doorstep, the empty bottles too
nobody would touch it, ‘cause everybody knew

Everyone was battling, just to make ends meet
nobody was richer, than the others in the street
we’d try to help each other, in any way we could
we may not have had very much, but life was pretty good

The breadman was the next to go, now he delivered to the shops
you had to go and buy your bread, with your bacon and your chops
that’s if you could afford to, things were getting very dear
you tried to keep your chin up, things could be better by next year

Then there was the paperboy, on street corners he would stand
yelling out the headlines, didn’t need no big brass band
“GET YOUR PAPER HERE” he’d cry “WHATS HAPPENING TODAY”
but I hardly even read the news, now he has gone away

or the boy who had the barrow, on a Sunday he would go
up and down the streets, and his whistle he would blow
he knew you might still be in bed, but he would wait outside
knowing as a regular, there’d be a bob or two on the side

Then there was the mailman, he would whistle too, 
especially, if he had left, important mail for you
the internet, and social media, have dealt him a deadly blow
and that is why I’m pretty sure, he will be the next to go
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