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Good Old Days!



Mum, do you remember the war she asked! an innocent question indeed

I'm doing a school project and an old person I need

How old do you think I am!, you cheeky little chump

You never ask a lady her age you might just get a thump

Well do you remember the war or not! I'm simply asking you

Which one are you asking about!, please not 1942


I was just a little twinkle in a very young lads eye

I wasn't born till the 60s and I won't tell you a lie

I was raised to the sound of the Beatles 4 lads from Liverpool

And I was just a little kid skipping off to school

We didn't have computers then in fact we had nowt

And if we couldn't afford to buy it we'd simply go without


I remember watching the old TV it was black and white back then

And gran and grandad argued about who'd switch it off at ten

They wouldn't let me watch it if the programme was too late

And if the news was on at five o clock my programmes would have to wait

They were never really violent, no swearing or bad scenes

In fact I wasn't allowed up late till I was well into my teens


So, No, I don't remember the war, perhaps it's just as well

Coz I have happy memories and only those I have to tell

I know that thing's must have been hard, my gran she told me so

And food was rationed for everyone, the mountain was so low

They didn't have fresh fruit or veg and sometimes not enough

They made do and mend with everything, they really had it rough


I remember she told an old story about a bomb that never blew

And kids all climbed upon it till the boys turned up in blue

They took it to the munition works and melted the whole thing down

And made another explosive device to throw back at another town

The windows had to be covered, no lights allowed after dark

And only the sound of the sirens and a lonesome doggy bark

And when it was all over, they thanked their lucky stars

And climbed out of their shelters like they'd been behind cell bars


My gran she died in the 70s and then I was a teenager too

She laughed at all my clothing, the flares were something new

The men all had moustache's long hair and baggy suits

And some of them had shaved their head's and wore red bovver boots

I told my nan they were skinheads, the others you could see for a mile

But all she did was laugh at them. "What a mess, you call that style"

They need their hair cutting, the others they need it to grow

I'm sure they feel uncomfy and doing it all just for show.

And when I came home in hot pants, she nearly had a fit

You'll rip those pants if you bend down, or even try to sit

You can see every little crease and every little fold

You'll catch your death if you go out you'll be too ###### cold.


Now I'm what you call old, 45 clapped out no good

And I would have those years back if I only could

For you may have your mods and cons and short of nothing it's true

But we knew how to have a good time and we didn't need owt new

Our friends well, they were trusty, and on who you could depend

And if you needed any help a thoughtfull hand they'd lend

So, No I don't remember the war, I kind of wish I had

Coz all the things that happen today, back then were'nt so bad


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