WHERE HAVE ALL THE SUMMERS GONE

 

Where have all the summers gone,

Those barmy days spent in the sun,

The memories all come flooding back,

When I was very young.

 

I am sure we had rainy days,

When it was murky and cold,

I seem to remember only warm days,

And the stories that I was told.

 

Of stories by the seaside,

In caravans lit by gas,

Of ablutions that were separate,

A necessary trip alas.

 

Tucked up in bed in the caravan,

Listening to the pouring rain,

Then up again next morning,

To see the sun shining again.

 

After breakfast up to the sea,

Carrying our bucket and spade,

Filled it with sand and seashells,

Then counted all the sandcastles we made.

 

Off to the funfair,

Won a hat, kiss me quick,

Rode all the rides,

That made me felt quite sick.

 

All these things I remember,

And good times that we had,

I will never forget the summers,

When I was just a lad.

Malcolm G Bradshaw