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Memories Of Wybourn School.

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You might get a better response in the Sheffield History/Expats section.

 

I went to wybourn, but you left the year I was born, so thats no good!

 

Jayne

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My mums family lived on the wybourne in the 60's, Maltravers Crescent. Not sure what year they left school but their surname was murat.

 

Lou

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I was at Wybourne school it the late sixties not sure of exact dates but i was bourn in 1957 the one thing that i remember was the carbolic soap used in the toilets one smell of wrights coal tar soap takes me right back there

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Anyone remember the school and pupils id like to hear from you i left in 1967

 

Yep! I went there; left Wybourn school in 1968, lived on Maltravers Cres, for some 20 years, then about 3 years on Wybourn house Rd, and then my parole came through.

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It may, now sound a bit condescending, but these were my thoughts back in the dark days. I have since mellowed, and now realise, they were hard times but good times.

 

 

Reflections of Wybourn School

 

Building so bleak, so cold and grey.

Try as we may to stay away.

Compulsory attendance was forced upon.

By rulers so draconian.

 

Corporal punishment the order of the day

In reward for obedience, such a cliché.

Such dogma alone the cause to rebel

No incentive at all to make one excel

 

The slash of the cane the sting of the slipper

The smile on the face of the one who delivers

Illiterate our destiny from point of birth

Our mark not to make upon this earth

 

I reflect on life that may have been

And of the great difference I may have seen

Had we not been meek and so poor

A scholar of poetry of that I’m sure.

 

But back down to earth, I am what I am

And to fight ignorance as best I can

The austerity of life so cold and cruel

With innocence of youth we let them rule.

 

But one day we know our turn will come

And make a vow, our seed not to succumb

Parental nature, being to learn from our past

And give them knowledge, knowledge to last.

 

And so we go to our maker, blessed in thought

Our children are safe, in the way that we taught

No longer the stigma we have to conceal

That, we take to our grave, and never to reveal.

© Mick Coyle

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That poem was excellent Mick :thumbsup:

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Hiya mick i remember you

bloody hell sound like frank ifield now

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