Th’ode Skewlin’ Days

Black Country Bugle - - YOUR LETTERS - by Keith Cher­ring­ton

Skewlin days um over, at least they bin fer me, It’s bin many odd eers now Since thay turned me free, I well re­mem­ber me fust skewl, Weer I went at the age of five, They dai arf mek yer ave it, We woz lucky ter be alive,

Yow ad the stick in th’morn­ing Aitch day yow wore on time, Un agen in the day­time, If ever yo stepped out uv line, Althow we kept com­plainin,’ The taitcher’s then day care, They juss purr on the pres­sure Un this wor re­ally fair,

It juss guz ter show though, When yo see what’s ap­penin’ ter­day Ow rite the taitch­ers woz back then, Un now it seems all play. Un wen it comes ter leavin, There ay nuthin’ af­ter ter dew, Jobs back then woz end­less, Un now theers onny a few,

I wish they cud tern th’clock back, We cud dew it all agen Things wouldn’t arf be diffrent, Burr aye it al­ways if un’ when. Ah’m glad I’ve ad me say though, Now I’ve gor­rit off me chest Uv all the plea­sures we ad as kids, I know now we ’ad the best.

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