Today’s poem

PAST, PRESENT (AND FUTURE?)

When I was just a little lad I knew where I would work, My dad was ‘in the factory’ And made sure I would not shirk. Leaving school, an apprenticeship Was my only aim, Like Dad, Grandad, and Great-Grandad, It’s there I would remain. Two brothers had started the factory Two hundred years ago And carried on the business Through many highs and lows. A loyal workforce had been built Which gave them their very best, The workers then repaid them By working with great zest. But one day it happened; Mr James — the boss’s son Said he wasn’t interested, He’d sold, the deed was done. Work was still secure (he said!), The new owner took us on, Then one by one dismissed us, Until we all had gone. The factory’s no longer there, A shopping mall’s been built, With shouting hordes and many cars Parked up to the hilt. Sometimes I wonder where the lathe is Or where I started work, The tricks the men played On boys just for a lark, And now a petrol forecourt Is where the tool room used to be, And I have been supplanted By the pump at No. 3. Paul Scrivener, Westoning, Beds.