Every ten year old needs a hustle
The cattle yards the Friday shuffle
The farmer need a sandwich for lunch
Or a horse they've got a hunch
I will run to get your dinner
Or place the bet for the sinner
It makes no difference to me
I am just hustling for a tuppenny
In the back door of bookie shop
Two Shillings I did drop
Over to the copper fiddle
For the ham off the griddle
I hand Paddy his slip and meat
A sixpence on the hustlers beat
Categories:
tuppenny, work,
Form: Carpe Diem
Just sat here pondering on yesteryear, of times long gone yet still so clear,
We thought eating out was such a delight,outside the chippy on Saturday night.
We thought restaurants were for the famous and rich, in the City so far away,
We walked everywhere to save the tuppenny fare, to spend another day.
We sat at home and listened to the radio, or played outside 'til bedtime,
We had homework, carried in a satchel, not a rolling suitcase like today.
We all ate at the table, no TV to gawk at, so we would actually talk,
We had no i pads or i phones, not invented then, tablets were swallowed when ill.
We did jobs to EARN pocket money or we went about broke and played in the grime,
We enjoyed that simplicity of life, when it seemed like a trial by ordeal at the time.
We lived and played, got hurt the odd day, we never had to call in the CPA.
We ran errands for the old folk, 'cos that's what Mum told us to do.
We sometimes were rewarded with a fresh baked cake or two.
Well I think I'll stop there afore folk think I'm getting maudlin tonight,
Writing it down keeps my mind both alert and bright. Goodnight!
© Dave Timperley February 2015
Categories:
tuppenny, childhood, memory, mum,
Form: Free verse