Sundays

Sundays

Every Sunday morning we’d be up and washed and dressed,
Not in our everyday “playing out” clothes, but in our Sunday best.
We’d be on our best behaviour too, a Sunday golden rule,
Then Mum and Dad would duly send us off to Sunday School.

We’d sing some hymns and say some prayers and listen to a story,
A moral tale to make us good and follow in God’s glory.
But best of all, when homeward bound with a tanner for some treats
We’d spend it in the corner shop on the tray of penny sweets.

Running home, playing tig, chasing home the winner,
Welcomed back to the savoury whiff of homemade Sunday Dinner.
We’d listen to the wireless, The Goons and Round The Horn,
Then Sunday night was bath night, spick and span for Monday morn.

Now Sunday’s lost its magic, it’s just another shopping day,
Sunday dinner’s now a drive through you can pick up on the way.
Our modern world keeps moving on and it will change again,
But it’s nice to reminisce about the old days now and then.

About the author

Martdel
425 Up Votes
Ex Thomas Cook manager, now retired, love travelling, reading, dining out and drinking wine!

More from Martdel

Hmmmmm
Hmmm Is it a bird, is it a plane, is it a busy bee a buzzin’ Is he insane or just in...
Read More
January Blues
January Blues What’s the matter with me today? I’m feeling down in the dumps I’m...
Read More
Come Dancing
Come Dancing “Come dancing,” they said “It’s good exercise.” “It strengthens...
Read More
The Itchy and Scratchy Show
The Itchy and Scratchy Show In the dark dead of night as I lay in my bed The strangest...
Read More
If you enjoyed reading this, show your appreciation to the author with a thumbs up!

Martdel would love your feedback, please leave your comments below:

Loading Comments

Showcase your literature

Not a member?

You need to be a member to interact with Silversurfers. Joining is free and simple to do. Click the button below to join today!

Click here if you have forgotten your password
Click here to visit the showcase home page