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More poems about Life

GOOD OLD DAYS
My grandmother used to tell me of the good old days,
Tales that seemed strange and odd in many ways,
Told of the old lamplighter who’s job each eventide
With a long pole light the lamps on the street each side.
Everyone knew him, loved him called him by his name,
When the lights went out life did nor seem quite the same.

She told of hansom cabs pulled by horses all very grand,
And when you rode you felt like an owner of much land,
The clip-clop of the hooves, a neigh heard here and there,
Picture perfect she used to say, in winter a scene quite fair.
Then came the noisy busses and motor cars ugly as can be,
Now all the busy streets everywhere are all quite horse free.

She told me of washing day, I can remember that as well,
Before we had washing machines and when Monday fell,
Dad was up early to light the boiler for the whites to boil,
And through most of the day all the girls used to toil,
Then if it was raining, in the house the clothes had to dry,
I must admit I am glad the good old days have passed by,

The turn of a switch for light there right at your finger tips,
No poor half dead horses being pushed by cruel harsh whips,
No more toil from dawn till dusk to get the weeks wash done,
From the good old days a great battle we have at last won,
But maybe in twenty years people will laugh at us and say
How on earth did they manage in that old fashioned way.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 24 October 2004