OLD FOLK’S HOME?

Well, it’s over a year, now,

Since I bid goodbye

To my life in a factory. Doesn’t time fly?

With no possible prospect of work,

I can see

A Last of the Summer Wine future for me.

I’m bound to this aimless existence,

I know

Till I’m shoved in death’s ante-room,

waiting to go.

Ken Orton, Ferryhill Station

TROUBLE IN MARKET

Darlington, Darlington, oh market town

Upon your planners sit and frown

They want to change you to their ways

We want to go back to all days,

On empty shops lets build some more,

Why not used the market store?

To bring back people from all around

To enjoy the smell, the sights, the sound.

Darlington, Darlington, oh market town.

Alan Cooper, Darlington

CAN I SELL YOU A GIZMO?

Boom! Boom! Boom! What is that noise

And where is it coming from?

Is it thunder? Or infantry?

A relic from the Somme?

I remember, I’ve heard it before

When passing through your town,

I’ve seen people looking around

With a perplexed and puzzled frown.

The first time I heard it

I was waiting at a traffic junction

When that noise came from behind,

I couldn’t get my brain to function.

When I moved off, it lessened.

When I slowed down, it got worse.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Now I was beginning to curse.

At the next traffic lights I turned

To see what I could find.

The boom boom puzzle was evident

It came from the car behind.

The banger behind held a moron.

The speakers turned up, full blast.

At the next stretch of open road

I let that idiot past.

Well I’ve got new for that moron,

He who cannot hear very well,

I’ve been making a gizmo

And to anyone I would sell.

It’s a high-tech piece of equipment,

Just like your TV remote.

Turned into any receiver,

You can conceal it under your coat.

When boom boom boy comes near you,

Driving that heap of rust,

Just give him a blast from your gizmo

And blast his equipment to dust.

Doug Porthouse, Ferryhill Station

BIRTHDAYS

When you get to 85

Some days you’ll be glad to be alive

Some days old age will show

And you will be very slow

Now you’ll tavel in your mind

To the places your feet can’t find

the thing that will please you best

Is having time to sit and rest

Aches and pains are now old friends

And come and go at will

If they get too bad, you know

To take another pill.

A Fisher, Spennymoor