A young lads best day!

A young lads best day! 

For fifteen years they kept me, through the frightful years of war,
In uncertain times of poverty, when you dare not ask ‘for more’,
They fed me, and they clothed me, though they often went ‘without’,
And they filled me with parental love, of that, – there is no doubt.

I knew that times were hard for them, and that money was so scarce,
I remember Mother counting pennies slowly from her purse,
The pitying look upon her face, when she had ‘overspent’,
And the struggle that my parents had, – to save the weekly ‘rent’.

But this would alter, times would change, this lad would get a job,
The local ‘Pit’, would set him on, – this lad would earn a ‘bob’,
And this would be my glory, – the best day I ever had,
Handing my first pay – packet, – to my Mom and Dad.

For fifteen years, they struggled, – now the struggle I had changed,
‘A worker’ now, was this young lad, now their life could re – arrange,
Just three pounds did they take from me, the rest was mine to keep,
But to see the smile on my Mom’s face, would make this young lad weep.

I wept with pride for what they had done, in the barren years of war,
To hold a home together, when all was bleak before,
And I wept myself for my own pride, – for what I did that day,
When I stood there, – a mining lad, and said. – “Here you are Mom, – here’s my pay! “.

Rest in Perfect Peace, Mom and Dad, ( Sally and Jim ). God Bless you both for being. “Mine”
Mick. (Your babby) xxxx

(Copyright Michael Westwood 2015)
NOTE:
My first ‘Pay-packet’, in total, was £4.- 17s – 6d.
So I had £1.- 17s – 6d. for myself, – I felt like a King !
Mick.

About the author

Mick Westwood
20557 Up Votes
I am a 71 year old retired coal miner, who spent 30 years working underground. Having time on my hands, and in order to keep my brain exercised, I decided to try to write poetry and put down on paper some of my life experience, and my hopes, dreams and other thoughts. I also do a little gardening, but I am hopeless at housework. Much to my wife's displeasure.

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