Hillfields in the Good Old Days

I often think
Of days gone by, 
When nobody had a feather to fly,
Doors unlocked, 
There was nothing to steal,
Hoping you mum could scratch up a meal.
Dad in his best on Sunday Morn, 
Swanking before it went back into pawn,
Because Monday would come, 
And off Mum would trundle,
Down to the pawn shop with her big bundle.
The clothes off Dad's back, 
The shoes off his feet,
Anything went to make ends meet.
The ends never met 
Right from the start,
They started off too far apart,
Out of work when they got wed,
They borrowed the dress and cadged the bed.
A two up two down 
For a bob a week,
With an outside loo that would always leak.
Toilet rolls were not the thing -
A pile of Newspaper hung on a string!
Out on a Monday would come dolly and tub -
No washing machine - it was all rub and scrub.
No bathrooms, no holidays, 
No fast motor cars,
We went on old bikes to the seven stars,
Or down to the Swanswell to do some fishing
With a penny net and a piece of string.
We wore hand-me-down togs, 
The eldest were first 
If you were the youngest you came off the worst.
The highlight of Dad 's life 
Was a threepenny double
Hoping he'd win to keep out of trouble,
Because, if he lost, he know there'd be rockets
With nothing to find when Mum went through his pockets.
If he won, 
What a different story, 
Off to the Half- Moon all covered in glory.
Half a crown was riches indeed, 
Dad had a pint, the kids had a feed.
Threepenny worth of bits, 
A penn'orth of chips,
Waiting in queues licking your lips.
Then to the Palladium 
At threepence a seat,
With a penn'orth of specked apples for a treat.
Times were hard, 
Jobs were few -
A gang on the street corner is nothing new....
We 'd see the reverend Paul Stacey 
On his nightly walk,
Stopping every so often for a friendly talk.
Well we survived 
To help fight a War, 
Very soon there were jobs galore.
Then came the blitz,
We were a city of fame,
But old Hillfields will never be the same!