GROWING UP

Let’s go back to the sixties, when I was just a kid,
And one of my favourite pastimes, was painting the neighbours binlid.
I was born in 1960, February to be precise,
Where growing up in ‘our house’ was simply ‘very nice’.
 
I lived in Newall street, in an old terraced house,
With mam and dad and all the kids, and ‘Kanga’ the jumping mouse.
The house was old and crumbling, even the taps worked on their own,
Everything was basic, we didn’t even have a ‘phone.
 
But that did not matter to us lot, cos we used to love it there.
With everything that was going on, including Cross lane fair.
We had a dog called Rebel, my god he was no slouch,
He used to catch the pigeons, and hide ‘em behind the couch.
 
We played out in the street from morning through ‘til night,
The kids were always friendly, we never saw a fight.
In the streets we all played games, ‘Rallyheaveho’ and Kickball Hide’
But I used to dread playing football, I was always on the worst side.
 
When it came to bath night dad scrubbed us in the sink,
He’d strip us off and clean us down without even time to think.
Then he’d send us into mam who rubbed us ‘til we were dry,
My god, I hated bath night, that Derbac made me cry.
 
The mams and dads pulled together and helped each other through,
They borrowed off each other, yes, even sugar too.
Eccles New road was at the top with Butterworths and Barmey Mick’s,
And Cross lane with all the pubs, and the Carlton we called the ‘flicks’
 
Sunday dinner, three O’clock, we’d wait outside the Buck,
To walk dad and Harper down the lane, for the dinner that mam would cook.
We’d walk as far as Newall street and then it was time to say,
‘get home and get your dinner uncle John, and give our love to Aunty May.
 
Sunday tea was always good, we used to get a treat,
Jam and crackers, chunks and cream, but rarely any meat.
Newall street was brilliant, the greatest place of all,
Growing up there was wonderful, us kids? We had a ball.
 
Great times don’t last forever, I suppose they never could,
Me? Go back to that tomorrow? You bet I bloody would.
 
Wilf Veevers