DOWN BY THE STREAM...
"Across Ribblers lane, up and over the old iron gate,
we all jumped into the farmers field,
careful not to step into the smelly cowpats,
keeping my two eyeballs peeled.
Then we legged it across the wide open grass,
To play down by the shallow stream.
We'd stay down there just letting time happily pass,
It was every nine year old lads dream.
Wading through the small concrete tunnel,
only yards below the East Lanc's Road.
All racing our floating twigs, and bottle tops downstream,
as the fast shallow water flowed.
Some time a leach would stick to your foot,
enjoying its bloody meal.
I'd be totally unaware of the little blood suckers presence,
because it was something that you just couldn't feel.
Now it's time to reluctantly go home,
as tea time eventually draws near,
I'm sure I can hear Mum's voice calling my name,
"Frank!..Come in now for your tea!"
Yeah I can...her voice is so loud, and so clear.
So off we go again, running back across the farmers field,
and leaping back over the old iron gate.
With Mum's hot food waiting on the table,
no way was I going to be late!"
