Times were different then
THIS poem, The Good Old Days, was written by my brother, the late the Rev John Thomas Murray, who was sadly murdered in Guyana, South America, in 1995.
It may enlighten the younger people about what times were like.
We met and we married a long time ago.
We worked for long hours when wages were low.
No TV, no wireless, no bath, times were hard.
Just a cold water tap and a walk in the yard.
No holiday abroad, no carpets on floors.
We had coal on the fire, and we didn't lock doors.
Our children arrived, no pill in those days.
And we brought them up without any state aid.
They were safe going out to play in the park.
Any old folks could go for a walk in the dark.
No valium, no drugs and no LSD.
We cured most of our ills with a good cup of tea.
No vandals, no muggings, there was nothing to rob.
We felt we were rich with a couple of bob.
People were happy in these far off days.
Kinder and caring in so many ways.
Milkman and paperboy would whistle and sing.
A night at the pictures was our one mad fling.
We all got our share of troubles and strife.
We just had to face it, that's the pattern of life.
Now I'm alone and look back through the years.
I don't think of the bad times, trouble and tears.
I remember the blessings, our home and our love.
And that we shared them together.
I thank God above.
Anthony Murray,
Cambridge Street,
Moorthorpe
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Thursday 24 May 2012
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