Ward Place
The neighbourhood was very rough;
My gran was sweet but, oh, so tough.
Most people didn’t go to work -
My mother said they’d rather shirk.
Some disappeared and then returned
(They’d been in jail, I later learned).
The local toughs respected Gran
And came to call for buns or flan.
Next door, there lived a dozen boys -
They dressed in rags and had no toys.
Although my family moved away,
I dream of Ward Place to this day.
Copyright © Jack Horne | Year Posted 2011
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