Patterns of Life

We met, we married a long time ago.
We worked long hours when wages were low
No TV, no Wireless, no bath…times were hard
Just a cold-water tap and a walk down the yard.

No holidays abroad, no posh carpets on the floor,
But we had coal on the fire and we didn’t lock doors.
Our children arrived. No bills in those days.
And we brought them up without any State aid.

They were quite safe to go and play in the park.
And the old folk could go for a walk in the dark.
No valium, no drugs and no LSD
We cured most of our ills with a nice cup of tea.

But if you were sick you were treated at once,
Not fill out the form and come back in six months.
No vandals, no mugging, there was nothing to rob.
We were quite rich on a couple of bob.

People were happy in those far off days,
Kinder, more caring in so many ways.
Milkmen and Paperboys used to whistle and sing.
A night at the pictures was our maddest fling.

We all had our share of trouble and strife.
We just had to face it..the pattern of life.
Now I’m alone and look back through the years.
I don’t think of the bad times of troubles and tears.

I remember the blessings, our home and our love,
We shared them together and thanked God above.

Harry Stanley

PS: It may not be Keats or Wordsworth or even Andrew Motion but it is written with feeling. I recently came across a faded photocopy containing this hand-written poem. I presume it was written by Harry, and not copied by him from some other source. If Harry did indeed write it then the chances are that if it ever was published it would have been in the local Church newsletter perhaps 20 years ago. Harry sang in the choir until he was well into his nineties and died in December 2008.