A LETTER FROM THE GOLDFIELDS. – by Pluck Marriot You needn’t expect me for some time yet To see me come home, Imogene; Nor need you frown and think I forget, Nor turn to your sister, Jane and say “How Pluck has changed since he went away From his ‘sweet little Imogene. […]
Burt Street – a verse
Burt Street Boulder Oh the years have long strayed, where my younger days played The dust on a long summer breeze Our old house where we stayed, mother cried when she prayed The dust storms that came as they pleased The Old Trams of Burt Street, in an old world compete With steam on the […]
Over the Hills – a verse
Over the hills where the sun goes down, Ever and ever so far away, There’s an old, old house in an olden town, I see it now, with its roof so grey, Tho’ it’s ever and ever so far away. And a fair and slender form. I see In the open doorway, standing.there With the […]
CARRYING OVER-WEIGHT – a verse
Following on from the story on the annual Bricknells Picnic I came across this poem about the ‘performance or lack of, in the Married Ladies Race’. The Sun 4 Oct 1908 Carrying Over Weight An After Dinner Sheffield From the Bricknell Bros Picnic: The event contested immediately after the fine spread had been done justice to […]
The Dirty Acre – The Boulder Block
Rather rowdy, Dingy, cloudy, Dusty, dirty, dim and dowdy, Thirsty throats to mock. Can’t mistake her, Good drought slaker, Six pubs to the bloomin’ acre, Weary hummers, Beery bummers, Cadging ‘deeners’, ‘zacks’ and ‘thrummers’, Mooching in a flock, Frontispieces hard and chilly, Sparring pots off ‘Dick’ and ‘Billy’ (‘Nough to drive a barman silly) On […]