When I went to school in the city
my friends though I was poor,
but I didn’t understand
wasn’t really very sure;
I only knew that
when I got home
I had all those miles
of fields to roam,
and every long summer
within easy reach,
half hour’s walk,
was Cowden beach.
They may have had running water
and toilets that flushed
but I hated their streets
their lives that rushed.
I was never ever at ease
when I was there,
hated the noise,
the very air.
They had the cinemas,
I had the sun.
They could play in the parks
I could walk with my gun;
and very special, I had two lives.
My friends known almost from birth
village folk with families like mine
mostly living from and with the earth
and my newly found city friends.
I kept each in their own part of my day
the best of both worlds,
I liked it that way.
A man’s not poor
if he needs to be told
what he’s missing
out there in the cold
My life may have been considered lacking
by those friends back there in the city,
from my position it was they
who needed my pity.
Memories of childhood days long past
When summers seemed to last and last
And in those summers' days long gone
In memory the sun always shone.
And I remember now
Something quite funny;
Most of the time
We had no money.
Not yet men yet not quite boys
Past the stage of playing with toys
Long days spent on Cowden beach
Two miles away so in easy reach.
And life was a wheeze a joke a jape
As almost daily the girls changed shape,
And, one of the things I remember the most
Was Mrs 'Odsons baked beans on toast.
Many a mum was put to the test
But Mrs 'Odsons were always the best.
These days they still have
Baked beans of course
But they seem to have messed
With the sauce
And what I think
Is such a waste
They seem to have gone
And changed the taste.
Simple pleasures, simple ways
In those long past summers' days.
Poor in possessions
But rich in joys
Just a Yorkshire village's
Growing girls and boys,
And when Mrs 'Odson played the host
Yummy scrummy baked beans on toast.
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