‘Gobstoppers, Marbles and Conkers’
© Joe Canning 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Oh for the days when I ran in the fields,
Through benweed and thistle on imaginary steed.
With a broom for a horse trying to make it run fast,
Shout “Giddy up there’! as I slapped own ass.
Jumping ‘over nettles never seeming to tire,
And scratching my ankles on a fence of barbed wire
Oh for the days when I climbed the tall trees; where
open-mouthed nestlings were begging from me,
Then scurrying down finding worms in a drill
and climbing again open mouth’s for to fill.
Fearless and brave I would reach the top branch,
And survey the land; my imaginary ranch.
Oh for the days when I’d race with my friends
To Bridget’s wee shop with a sixpence to spend,
Aniseed balls they were six for a penny,
‘Peggy’s leg’s, ‘Drumsticks’ Barley sugar aplenty.
Clove rock and liquorice, black red and green,
Off to Lifford, Strabane, and the big silver screen.
Oh for the days we were innocent weans,
Hiding from thunder and lightning and rain,
Underneath tables the Rosary was said; or
Trembling ‘neath greatcoats on mammy’s big bed.
Going to the pub with a message for daddy,
‘’Me ma says come home Da! Your dinner, it’s ready”!
Oh for the days when I’d climb on his knee,
When he’d share a wee sip of his Guinness with me,
He’d laugh when the taste my wee face it contorted,
And then with some cola the problem was sorted.
And oh! for the days at that big kitchen table,
When mammy would dish home-made soup with her ladle,
Or turn out a mountain of spuds on newspaper,
Saying “Come on now weans, eat as much as you’re able.
Seems that these days this big world has gone bonkers,
What happened to Gobstoppers, Marbles and Conkers?