Terraced houses looking neat
Two up two down in our street.
Back yards looking really old,
Outside lavvies freezing cold.
Chimneys smoking fog all around,
Soot in the air falling to the ground.
Pavements worn but doorsteps clean,
Donkey stones were always seen.
Gas lamps to light the way,
Lovers in doorways.
Small shops each to their own,
Making a small profit as each day dawns.
Motor cars were rare in those days,
A penny for the bus we just couldn’t pay.
Legs were for walking gosh didn’t we know,
Miles and miles our feet would go.
People striving to make ends meet,
But all were genuine down our street.
Mill workers up at dawn,
If you didn’t go there was no dole.
Poor we were so we got no treats,
Just as long as we could eat.
Money we hadn’t but laughter we had,
Life was anything but sad.
By Patricia Preec (A Blackburn Lass)
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