I USUALLY avoid verse in this column but last week I used the ballad of Paddock Jack because of its local connection and it made me laugh.
Now Roy Bottomley has sent Sago Pudding Days. I don’t know its origins or who wrote it but it seems to sum up a certain generation.
I’ve been trying to remember being little with me mam,
When we had a lot of homemade lemon cheese and strawberry jam.
We never had a curry or spaghetti bolognese,
We lived on bread and dripping and had sago pudding days.
We didn’t have a microwave, a fridge. Well what was that?
We’d never heard of salmonella, just Sam our old tom cat.
We didn’t have cholesterol, least they had none at the ‘cwop.’
We had to do our shopping there, it was the only shop.
Nobody counted calories or really ate too much.
We never had a ‘sell-by-date’ on sunflower oil or such.
We didn’t have hot water and what killed all known germs,
But what we did have now and then, was something known as worms.
We never had septic throat, aids or viral flu,
We’d never heard of Andrex, Dad said ‘News of World’ will do.
My mother’s wash was fresh and clean, her colours really bright,
She’d never heard of enzymes, but vests were always white.
We never had much money, we’d nowt to spend it on,
We never had a telly, but nor had anyone.
We lived a simple life, in ignorance some may say,
But if I truly had my chance, I’d go back any day.
I don’t believe in progress, things are moving far too quick,
And things they tell us what to eat, simply makes me sick.
Me grandad lived on dumplings, chewed black twist and smoked Park Drive,
And he died a happy man, when he was 95.