Early Memories © 2008 Beryl Dyson

Some memories I bring to mind of days of yesteryear,
Simple Carefree, childhood times, without the sense of fear.
I would walk the flattop paddock wall, slide down a well worn rope,
Climb a tree and sometimes fall and didn’t care a hoot,
Play in the Farmers stack-yard, shin up a new made stack,
Or take a brawtch and run hard, to kill a mangy rat.
The oil-man to the village came, his van held many things:
Liquorice pipes and sugar cane, with the taste of paraffin.
Food tasted good. No-one had heard of dreadful Salmonella.
The water-well claimed cat or bird, there were beetles in the cellar.
Rainwater used to clean the clothes in a copper charged with soda.
Suet duffs boiled on the stove, in a massive iron boiler.
In the village lived my auntie, to her place I’d often go,
And used to love her shanty, with its three seats in a row.
Auntie’s orchard was enormous with chickens all free range,
Yet they roamed into her back-us to lay eggs there for a change.
A ferret bit auntie’s finger, she gave one almighty yell,
The first time I heard her swear, she said “Cor blast and hell.”
No-one seemed to hurry, yet the bulk of work was done.
No doubt there was some worry but it balanced with the fun.
Things come to mind so vividly of those days of yester-year,
When asked what happened yesterday, I’m afraid I’ve no idea.

• Brawtch – Stick from hazel wood used for thatching.
• Shanty – Outside toilet.
• Back-us – Back kitchen