WALKING THE BANKS
The old railway banks we as kids ,Whear once the railway ran before ,
From Ramsgate to Margate ran before ,
We were born ,
Off-tan we walked , one , two and three banks ,
Digging up spuds from the field's ,
Starting a fire too roast 'em , in a copse ,
With a stick poke 'em in to the embers ,
Licking our lips in intimation of our feast ,
Watching the spuds cook ,
With stick in hand , poke the ready to eat ,
Jacket potatoes ,
Picking them up , hand to hand , to cool them down ,
Till there'd cooled down a bit ,
Then sinking in our teeth , skins , fired dried dirt and all ,
Mmm , lovely , no butter , nor margarine ,
Mmm , wonderful ,
We put out our cooking fire ,
Then on to Margate , we track ,
We reach the outskirts of the town ,
The goods yard in sight ,
We come to a bomb crater from world war two ,
Named '' The Devils Piss Hole'' , by us kid's ,
Just had to clime down , did it stink?
You bet it did!
Then on we goo , to the goods yard ,
Nip through a gait , in to Margate ,
Our day on Margate sands to enjoy.
All built over now , no incessant fun ,
Fore the kids to enjoy today ,
No adventurers to set out on ,
Just boring storys now us grown up kids,
To tell the kids today ,
'' I remember when as a kid just like you ''
The Dyslexic Poet Ken D Williams
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 699 times
Written on 2009-09-20 at 11:08
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Toonist |
|
|
Toonist |
|
|
Toonist |
|
|
Toonist |
|
Elle |
