The Old Days

Lazy summer days that went on for ever.
Clothes line lassos; cowboys endeavour!
Goodies and baddies; the eternal battle!
Broomstick horses, fencepost cattle.

Bikes that had engines concealed in our lips,
Or cards held to the spokes with Cellotape strips.
They turned into spitfires for a dog fight
Or a trusty steed, carrying his mounted knight.

Tree houses, castles with moats that surround
Where Robin Hood swung from old tyres we found
Double ‘O’ Sevens’ that ne’er got the girl
No room for such pansy-full things in our world

No dollies or tea-parties fit for us men,
Unless maybe to kidnap and ransom again.
No kisses or band aids or cuddles to ease,
Except later from Mummy when nobody sees.

When red plastic sandals weren’t funny or strange,
And shorts that gave nettles a far better range
Were worn by just everyone in primary school.
‘Please’, and ‘no, thank you(s)’ were our golden rule.

Am I really so wrong, to feel sad for our young?
Should old folk just shut up and all bite our tongue?
And accept that was then, this is now and I’m wrong
To be wishing the same song for them, as I sung.