Memories

While standing alone on the river bridge I gazed across to the hill, Now there stands a lot of houses On the land I used to till. As my memories returned to me I pictured each field, each hedge, each tree. And the happy hours I spent as a lad Up in those fields, whilst helping my dad. The ploughing, the harvesting and making the hay, Often meant a very long day. Working from dawn to the setting sun, We were very tired when the days work was done. But when we had time for a bit of fun, Off we would go with dog and gun. We would walk for miles, we didn't care As long as we shot a rabbit or hare. The jack-pond, the orchard, the bridge and the lane, To me all these will never be the same. So as time passes on and the years go by, I will treasure those memories to the day I die. By Jim Clarke Woolstone

 

Poems copyright Jim Clarke. Page put together by and copyright of
Yobunny, 1999. Updated August 2006