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Well I've finally got round to opening this page so if anyone's got any poems they'd like to have included just Email them to me
This is a poem I wrote some years back and it's based on a true event, I kid you not!
When we were kids, my brothers and me, we played on the Tip, Bordesley Green We’d roam and we’d play like so many others, the scruffiest kids ever seen Roll down the hill in an empty oil drum, build a den, look for treasure and swag Play games, ride our bikes, happy days chum, playing football, cricket and tag One day, at the back of the scrap metal yard, we discovered the rainbow’s end A girder of iron, all rusted but hard “weigh it in, get some ackers to spend!” Now I can’t really say, of that far away day, which side of the fencing we found it But the scrap yard had many and we daint have any, so what else could we do but impound it? The plan was soon clear, we’d take it from here and tote it to Rag Allan’s yard With big John at the front, Mick, then me ( the runt ) we set off but the going was hard. For a small kid like me that girder was murder and soon I just had to let go Then Mick did the same, then John, such a shame, that girder fell right on his toe! Me and Mick stood and frowned watching John on the ground yelling and screaming blue murder The answer was clear, “ John, you just rest here, me and Mick’ll plod on with the girder We’ll weigh in this tack and then we’ll be back to help you and split up the loot” John started yelling “ me foot’s started swelling, I’m gonna have to take off me boot” We listened no further, me and Mick grabbed the girder and set off towards Bordesley Green Across the small tip, past the old snooker hall, a sorrier sight you’ve not seen We pulled and we dragged it, caught it and snagged it, the thought of money meant we didn’t complain At last, Bordesley Green, in them days so serene, then round into We both sweated gallons but at last raggy Allan’s, we put the tat down to be weighed “Ten bob” said the man and over we ran to the office and queued to get paid after that, stood outside, we had to decide how we should split half a quid “That’s easy, no fuss, four bob each for us and the other two bob for our kid” Not fair, did you say?, well see it our way, me and Mick had just done all the work We’d wrestled that girder ‘til we could go no further, all John did was sit there and shirk On the tip we found John, minus sock, minus boot, foot swelled up and starting to throb “Cheer up our John, here’s your share of the loot, sorry it’s only two bob Grab a hold of our arms and we’ll help you get home and we’ll tell dad a bike ran you over ‘Cos if he finds out the truth he’ll start wielding that boot and the stuff we’ll be in won’t be clover As we all started out from behind came a shout and I looked round to see my mate Sid “you won’t make the road with that heavy load, said my mate, he was wrong ‘cos we did He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother For Mick. Born The Great escape This is a much shortened version of an epic I wrote a few years back and is actually based on true events. Hope you enjoy it My friends on our journey through life, you’ll agree, we all have our burdens to carry. The first of those burdens came early for me in the form of a pal, name of Barry. At this point, dear readers, I ought to explain, me and Barry looked like we were twins, An identical pair with bright ginger hair and freckles all over our skins. At the scene of the crime when witnesses spoke of seeing two red headed twins Any thought of escape became just a joke, once more we would pay for our sins. Bordesley green was the scene of our final come-uppance in the summer of fifty-six Across from the school by Holt’s Snooker Hall, just up from the old Elite flicks. A shed all fenced off, padlocked gate, water trough, about twelve little pigs and a sow An urban pig pen? common back then, the neighbours would frown on it now. We climbed to the top of that creaky old fence to look down at the porkers below The sow rolling round in the mud on the ground with all of her piglets in tow Now I’d never heard of Animal Lib, such things hadn’t yet been invented But I looked at those piggies all crammed in the yard and though “surely they can’t be contented” A plan then took hold, a plan brave and bold, a plan that was simply mind-blowing “We’ll break off the lock, release them en bloc and scarper without anyone knowing. Then the pigs can just roam, with the Tip as their home, no longer squashed up in their pen. And we’ll come every day to see them at play, when it’s raining we’ll build them a den With a piece of scrap iron we forced off the hasp and gently swung open the gate Then what happened next made us gasp and regret what we’d done, but already too late. The piglets flew out, the fastest I’ve seen, followed full pelt by the sow Not onto the Tip but to Old bordesley green, “what on earth are we gonna do now?” Pigs on the pavement, pigs on the road, the traffic just screeched to a stop Pigs in the Laundry, the Pigs to the front, the rear and the flank, pigs in the Municipal ( piggy ) Bank Pigs in Wimbush’s, the underground loo, pigs running round in the Post office queue Pigs in Sheldon’s the Draper, cor what a caper, pigs in the bar of The Vic Pigs in Wassall’s She Shop, Hinwoods Butchers ( pork chop! ), by now we were feeling quite sick. “Jerry, what’ll we do?” asked my pal brave and true, “I reckon we’ve just come a cropper” “I’m getting off home, I don’t know about you but I think I just spotted a copper”
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