Back In My Day
Whenever I would go to my mother,
Regardless of the bother,
Prices of sweets, housing, jobs,
Dangers on the street, or other bits and bobs,
She would give me advice so bold,
Before taking me to the land of old.
Back to the days when she was a child,
The days in which prices were mild,
Her father out doing all kinds of work,
Yet the politicians were still selfish jerks,
Back when bread and beans were 50p,
Back in the time of the old Queen.
She would talk of the greatness of the country,
When the people were as free,
As the air between your hair,
She would of tell of the care,
Of all she knew towards each other,
Before I would finish talking with my mother.
At least with my mother there were no lies,
Unlike my father in which it was like a spy.
Uncovering it all just like Holmes,
As he spoke of his old home.
Or all the crimes he did in school,
Just to try and seem cool.
My father's old school nights,
When he had a whole school fight,
When he was punished for being bad,
With a belt just like his Dad.
The atrocities that would make you cry,
If they weren't all lies.
When I am old and starting to tell,
Of my youth, and this world of hell.
Where no one can afford a home,
And birth rates are as dry as a bone.
The threat of war on the rise,
And this is only if I am alive.
Instead of thinking of my years to come,
Or when my origin had begun,
We should fix the world of now,
And lets not ask how.
Banded together, we have the key,
To fix our society.
To change the future.
So we can say "Back in my day".
Copyright © Jack Coleridge | Year Posted 2025
|