Long Tuppence Poems
Long Tuppence Poems. Below are the most popular long Tuppence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tuppence poems by poem length and keyword.
When once upon a time one had to knock at your friends door to see if they were in because your parents had put a cap on the phone bill to stop you ringing ....
When you recycled your bottles of pop for pocket money, a halfpenny for your fruit salad chew and you couldn't resist a black jack that turned your tongue blue ..
When your first job was picking fresh organic field mushrooms for the local grocery , a Tuppence a punet was plenty ....
When you helped the elders of your community across the road because their glasses were stuck together with sticky tape balanced on their nose ......
When your friend called Cyril the dog taught you to swim in the river and the sea and you adventured in the pond on your makeshift barrelled boat , your spirit was free swinging on a rope amongst the river trees ...
When it was safe to walk to the park through your village , your community ,and you know you felt safe because everyone knew , you see ...
When the day finished off with scraps wrapped in The Sun newspaper shared amongst your friends whom you spent climbing trees navigating yourselves scumping apples over the old mans private fence ...
Tuppence to my name
Tuppence after the bills are
Paid
Tuppence for A Thought
Tuppence was a lot of money
Back in the day
When we were young
Tuppence was a lot of money
For salad creams and strawberry bon bons ...
I got Tuppence to my name
The bank takes takes takes as it plays
Out its strategic takeover game...
Tuppence to my name
Tuppence after the bills are Paid
Tuppence for a thought
I'd be rich
If life was not a ....
Tuppence for A Thought
I'd be poor
If id become a whore
Tuppence for A Thought
Put it in the charity box
Hope blessed are thee
Put it in the charity box and it'll come back three fold , you'll see ...
Milk bottles we would rinse out and return.
Pop bottles take back to claim the tuppence.
Kellogg’s cartons collected for the kids
To cut and paste and learn creative art.
Unburnt cinders reclaim from last night’s fire
And add to burn again with today’s coals.
Rinsed food cans collected by rag-bone man.
Blue sugar-bag take back to the Coop
To be filled once more with weighed out sugar.
Cut up old clothes to use as cleaning rags.
Collect carthorse droppings for garden plants.
Newspapers take to chippy for free chips
Or use to roll and twist as fire-lighters.
Naught went to waste in those austere times.
Our climate is warming
The speed is alarming
Could this be a warning
Our greenhouse gases rise
Polluting worldwide skies
Now comes a surprise
The planet is heating
From our carbon burning
And we’re still not learning
We aim for personal gain
And simply show no shame
As we play selfish game
But now we get the flack
Nature’s on the attack
The pendulum swings back
We’d enough for our need
But then we turned to greed
And made our planet bleed
We didn’t care tuppence
Ignoring common sense
Now we face consequence
Our climate is warming
The speed is alarming
Could this be a warning
Born 31st July 2014 – Passed 16th July 2025
When shadows fell and nights grew long..
You came into my life.. a light, a song.
So soft, so sweet, with joy so true..
The world felt brighter just with you.
You made me laugh when I would cry..
A wagging tail, a knowing eye.
No judgment, just your steady grace..
Pure love reflected in your face.
You never asked, you simply gave..
A loyal heart, forever brave.
Through every storm, you stayed near..
A guardian soul I held so dear.
Each cuddle, each walk, those dress-up days..
Your silly charm, your loving ways.
A kiss on the cheek, a walk in the park..
You filled my world with your loving spark.
Tuppence, my angel, my truest friend..
How I wish this love could never end.
But though your paws no longer tread..
You live on in the tears I've shed.
You were perfect, joy without disguise..
A spark of heaven in your eyes.
And though you’ve crossed where I can’t see..
Your spirit still walks close to me.
My heart will echo your gentle bark..
Your memory glows through every dark.
You’ll never leave, not really gone..
In soul, in love, you still live on.
Rest now, my darling, soft and deep..
In peaceful dreams and endless sleep.
Forever loved, forever mine..
My Tuppence, sweet and one of a kind.
Oh, don’t flatter me with presents from the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Tis the season for nostalgia, but those feelings never last.
It’s a gift-wrapped empty promise not worth tuppence on the street,
Or a ticket to the opera when you’ve nothing left to eat.
Oh, don’t weary me with visions from the Ghost of Christmas Gone.
It’s a fairy tale for paupers who’ll be just as poor come dawn.
I’ve no sympathy for indolence, nor ignorance and want.
If you’re looking for compassion, find another bank to haunt.
Oh, don’t bother me with worries from the Ghost of Christmas Done.
Send those children of the gutter to the workhouse, every one!
Put their noses to the grindstone in a more productive game;
Earning porridge making bootstraps for the barefoot and the lame.
Oh, don’t humbug me with pleadings from the Ghost of Christmas Lost.
Sir, the figures on my balance sheet won’t justify the cost.
So, our business is concluded and I’m free to wash my hands.
Tell the Sisters of St. Alban’s, the eviction notice stands!
Her Mam did for the rich Wool toffs,
days chocka block with chores.
Her fella was a plazzy gent—
A few jars opened doors.
A proper jarg johnny he used;
he thought hi’self real cool.
In the shade of the Whalley Abbey,
the banks of Otterspool.
She was sacked off by the Big House;
for bloating like a toad.
The sconner did like a runner;
she was proper devoed.
Eleanor Rigby was nineteen
when the Great War broke out.
She worked at t’ alehouse in The Lanes;
crashed with this divvy lout.
This RC priest offered her a job
as the scullery maid.
Her threads were mostly ant wacky;
skint from the tuppence paid.
He made her attend Sunday church
and to learn the new hymn.
She had managed to scrounge a pair
of boss new trabs from him.
The scran for tea was abar sound—
she shared with a few birds.
They rolled own ciggies from backy
and shared one another’s thirds.
The declaration of the war,
surely did her head in.
A baltic day in thirty-nine,
at t’ ozzy, she didn’t win.
At St Peter’s Church in Woolton,
Eleanor was laid t’ rest;
one of the many lonely people …
A scouser—one o’ the best.
Through the Dark Woods crooked pathways
Out beyond the crooked mile
Lived a Tinker who tended the crooked river dam
And He wore a crooked smile
He tinked til the wee hours of morning
Upon finest jewels of luster sheen
He tinked gold for crowns and bracelets
To be placed upon the Queen
Each day at noon he shut the rivers gates
To protect the palace in the valley low
Though he was a Master Tinker
He also cared for ebb and flow
He was paid a meager tuppence
For the many laborious hours he spent
He kept it in an old biscuit box
And never spent one cent
One day the Queen sent a messenger
A new tinker she had found
His services were hereby cancelled
His severence less than half a pound
A tinker's tear had fallen
From off his crooked brow
Left suddenly with a jobless future
There was only one action left for him now
Noon came upon the mountain
With the dam bursting at the seams
He opened every river gate
Creating raging torrents out of streams
He gazed down upon the valley
Where a Queen's palace once did stand
And thought, You can mess with this crooked tinker
Just don't mess with a tinker's dam
Jackie
My father was a farmer’s boy
who loved to work the land,
but many children came to him
and wages weren’t grand.
So he went to be a miner
and toil beneath the ground
to feed and clothe his family,
to keep us safe and sound.
He’d tell us of his younger life
and often he would share
the stories of his farming days
wishing he was there.
Though he couldn’t sing for tuppence
he did so anyhow
the songs he knew were myriad
I still can hear him now.
I’ve missed him since he passed away
but know he’s out of harm
and, if God agreed to his last wish,
he’s somewhere on a farm.
His idea of Heaven was living on a farm.
Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder,
But Whiskey makes you frisky.
Clerihews and epigrams are fine but
Do not tell these to one lost in love
Except when you mean to cheer up one
Fevered with temporary amourous setbacks.
Gift them the gift prized by one and all
Humour - evoking laughter or perhaps a smile
Inviting a participation in the balm laced with
Jokes, both ribald and a bit of the plain
Killing the gloom of mindless regret and remorse.
Laughter is the best medicine, they say,
Mightily potent to dissipate every whiff of gloom
Nostrum for broken hearts and the flings and arrows of life.
Ophidian ilk are friends that are wry, shirking a shoulder
Pretending with masks to smile away misfortune yet
Questing to wring out sweet savor from other's calamity.
Roar unto the wind a bit louder than the storm
Spoiling what they seek with your tuppence attitude.
Take what is yours, let no one deny you your share
Under any circumstance do not relent for what is your due.
Verity is a virtue that'll stand in good stead,
Warmth towards your fellows won't ever waste.
X-factor's something natural not something you fake,
Yearning for glory like a harlot who'll sell.
Zing is the thing with this homily, my friend.
~27 May 2016~