Time Remembered

(A poem by Rosalind Dickers. Mother of Annette Dickers)

Oh, how I would like to see King’s Norton like it used to be.
Our proud old Church, it still stands there
Against the trees, so stark and bare.
Do you remember, or have you read,
The cottages around the Old Bull’s Head,
The workhouses with bricks of red and grey,
Where tramps used their weary heads to lay.
Five pubs there were, perhaps too many,
A pint of ale for just one penny.
The cattle market, where once a week
Farmers came to sell their sheep.
Hough’s Brickyard, down Ardath road,
Great shire horses pulled their heavy load.
And came October, in the Fall
The hiring Mop gave us a call.
The roasted ox with meat so sweet,
Kiddies dancing in the street,
The greasy pole, and prancing horses,
The sound of Showmen’s raucous voices.
Do you remember - I do - still
The old flour mill down the hill,
The wheel a-turning in waters green,
A prettier sight you’ve never seen.
A Mint there was, or so I’m told,
Where we stamped our pennies bold.
Up Masshouse Lane a donkey track
Past pigstyes and fine hay stacks.
The two mile tunnel, dark and long,
The Bargemen’s feet propelled the boats along.
Alas, alas, those days have gone,
Great tower blocks now we gaze upon.