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I'm remembering the old canal
Beside the village green.
And walking on to Astley Moss,
When life was cruel and mean.
No butter on a slice of bread,
It was either jam or sugar.
And if you got two slices
You were just a lucky bugger.
When Dads were sick or could not work
You found you had some neighbours,
For they brought in plates of 'butties'
With a ,bless you , for their labours.
Mothers always hid their grief
And covered up their sorrow.
Hating all of yesterday
And dreading their tomorrow.
Children then slept three a bed
With flies all were tormented.
Their Mothers died before their time
Or else became demented. |
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