When We Were Young
The billycart we made, with pride in our hands,
We made with a juvenile fun,
Using 4b2 planks, and big iron wheels,
It weighed somewhere near to a tonne,
For the farm’s eroded driveway, both steep and direct,
Covered in sharp, slippery sand,
Leading straight down, to the shard concrete bridge,
Upon which we'd often crash land,
We didn't need, nor have, O.H. and S. cover,
Our safety plan was more or less hope,
And this was shown with the steering we made,
Out of old worn torn hessian rope.
When we were kids we got cut and we bled,
All the time, with no song and no dance,
We learnt, first hand, how to face a good risk,
How to laugh at danger, at hurt, at chance.
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