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Daft Poems For Over 60's Grimesthorpe Folk

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A couple of silly sentimental poems about Grimesthorpe written in red wine !!





When I was a lad at the top of our street

Stood a pub, the Old Bowling Green

And out the back, sitting on the grass

Was this marvellous, fantastic machine.


Made of concrete and steel but mainly of rust

It's colours had long disappeared

Majestically sat the rolling machine

That every kid hated and feared.


It had killed six lads, no seven, no eight

None of us were really that sure

My mate Mick who was a little bit thick

Told everyone he thought it was more.


To get to the machine was no mean feat

It meant climbing and scaling the wall 

With concrete and brick almost sixty feet thick

And standing half a mile tall.


Now standing at the end of the wall 

An old lamp post green and rusty

Bent in the middle but still standing tall

By heck it wasn't half dusty


We pulled ourselves up to the very top

And then swinging like on a trapeze

Flew over the wall to the soft ground below

With grass burns on our knees


We crawled through the bushes and trees

Taking care not to be seen

Till at last we came to an opening

Where we could see the marvellous machine.


"See that colour on the roller,

 what looks like paint, it's red

well it's not paint at all

it's where a kid hit the wall 

and the roller ran over his head."


Thick Mick said the kid was dead

And not only dead but flat

His mother came round dusted him down

And took him home for a mat.


We crawled on our knees to the mighty machine

Struggling for breath our eyes smarting

It wasn't the fear that made us feel sick

It was Mick, he couldn't stop farting.


At last we were there, all four brave boys

Mick touched it first and then his brother

A judder, a screech a frightening noise

All four of us diving for cover


It started to move slowly at first 

Rollers flattening the ground

All four jumped on, wanting it faster

Two rollers, eight legs, going round


We started to laugh 'cos we were winning

Towards the wall we steered

It gathered up speed, Warp factor 5

Kirk and Scotty would have cheered


Mick fell off and landed on his bum

The next to go was me

I could see the other two lads, legs going like mad

As the roller just missed a tree.


And then with a wallop a crash and a bang

It hit the wall, bricks and metal

It flew up in the air with dust all around

Which then began to settle.


We could see what we'd done and we started to run

A hole in the wall, roller shattered

Grounded for a week or a whack from your mam

Thick Mick  didn't mind getting battered.


We all walked home arm in arm

We happy band of brothers

Not a care in the world what would happen to us

Being walloped by dads or our mothers.


We'd won you see we'd won the day 

The roller had gone with the wall

Who could have thought that something so big

Could be conquered by someone so small






When we were little we played in street

Big Park was too far away

We'd wait all week counting the hours

For our match, the Match of the Day.


It was always a Sunday gloriously hot

Unless it rained or snowed

Dry or wet it mattered not

We'd meet at the end of our road.


To walk to park took a very long time

It seemed three miles or four

Asthmatic Stan and his mate Fat Jim

Said it was a bloody lot more


Five or six would leave our street

Picking mates up on the way

By the time we got there and set up the pitch

We'd forgot who we'd picked to play


Stand in a bunch and wait to be picked

It was always the same routine

Best at front worst at back

Fat Jim trying not to be seen


There were no subs everyone played

Much as 15 a side or more

Some would sneak off for a crafty fag

Leaving Asthmatic Stan to score


 Pongy Pete scored a hat trick

And expected the ball at the end

All he was given was soap on a rope

From BO Dave his best friend.


These matches would last for hours

In the hot afternoon sun we would sweat

Nobody ever brought any water

It was unnecessary, too heavy, too wet.


The Parky would turn up with a bucket

He'd stand on the line and cheer

Water's here lads get stuck in 

I'm off down Pavillion for a beer


The grass on the pitch was perfect

We kids called it Little Wembley

And even now at 63

It will always be in my memory.


The long walk home through the park

Gulping water from the fountain

Getting indoors before it was dark

Who won? nobody had been counting


And Sunday night was bath night

Just after having your tea

Then to bed to dream about

Lifting the cup at Wembley





Sometimes you felt quite rebellious

You were young and wanted to stay out late

To see the dark coming down and the night setting in 

Well that was me, but I was only eight


So one day I made a decision

To stay put on top of a wall

It must have been six feet high

Poor Mam only four foot tall


She came out about seven

And told me it was time for my tea

But I knew she was fibbing

'Cos we'd had bread and dripping at three


Oh come on Jacky stop messing about

Her voice sounding soft and sweet

Get off the wall now and come indoors 

And I'll get you something to eat


Not falling for that I thought

I'd heard that one before

Jacky get off the wall now

New voice,it was Madge from next door


Ah so mam's got reinforcements

Trying to get me down

Madge looking quite angry

In her slippers and dressing gown


If you don't get down and get in 

Then you lad will get what for

I answered back with a grin

What from you, me Dad or me Ma?


You saucy little sod she said

Stay there I'll sort this situation

She went back indoors

And came out with Rex, her bloody big alsation


He's looking at you Jacky Boy

And he's starting to lick his lips

So if I was you I'd get down

Or else you've had your chips


So staring defeat in the face

I jumped from the wall to the ground

Why did it have to be an alsation

Why couldn't she have a dachshund


A sausage dog would have been better

I could have stayed there until it was dark

It couldn't reach me on top of the wall

And nobody would hear it bark


Treading warily I went indoors

Cautiously looking around

Imagine my delight when mam said

I'm glad you're home, safe and sound


You see I couldn't reach you on the wall

It's getting dark and I wanted  you in

Safe and warm in your own home

And not found in someone's bin


The lurgy man has a bad habit 

Of snatching little kids out late

And by twisting their arms and legs

He folds them up nice and straight


He'll pick a bin and drop 'em in

Then next night he'll be out as late

Looking in yards and on top of walls

For kids like you aged eight


I didn't do it again!! 




Copyright JBowler November 2019




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Bowler you cheeky sod , never remember you as being much of a footballer, you never came out from under that bush hat you always had on.😎

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I remember you , wild hair , bush hat , sun glasses and that old 2 tone overcoat . when you thought you were Roy Wood 🤠

Hope your well Jack.

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