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Poetry D Jour by Beryl McMullen coming December, 2010

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Author Topic: Oh what a night (date link to follow)  (Read 1910 times)
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« on: August 02, 2013, 04:32:57 PM »

It's late December 1963.
My brother Robert comes up to me and starts singing a new song he's heard at school, it's a parody of the Carol, 'We three Kings of Orient are'

'We four beatles of Liverpool are,
George in a taxi, John in a car.
Paul on a scooter, bibbing his hooter,
Followed by Ringo Starr.'

He has a big grin on his face, he thinks it's wonderful.
I'm still young, so do I.

I skip back a few years and I'm 7.
At the top of Francis St/Henry St is a derelict factory. (right where the new St Vincents church is now)
It's about 35ft high and we're on the roof.
The place must still have stuff in it and a nightwatchman sees us and starts shouting for us to come dowm.
Oh I know how that one would end, with a belting off our mom.
Robert (being very clever for 10, deliberately lets the nightwatchman see him running along the parapet towards the direction of Barrack St.
As the guy runs along, he ducks, grabs my hand and drags me back in the opposite direction.
Your heroes escape unscathed, unbelted but free.

I'm 8, we've done something wrong...actually, I've done NOTHING wrong, it's my evil brother again, next thing I know we're in Ward End Park and we've run away from home.
It's almost 9pm and we've been gone several hours.
Robert and me bed down in a ditch but it's cold and miserable.
We walk back home to face certain doom off mom.
I'm tired, hungry and thirsty.
We walk into the house to meet our certain deaths, Mom doesn't even want us (him) and they hadn't even missed us.
It's nice to be loved.

Robert comes home from school, it's tea time and I'm eating a baked potato. Robert (or Rabbit) as my Uncle David calls him.
watches me eating,he then tells me a story of how a kid in his school can no longer eat food as he's completely full up.
Robert tells me the doctors think the kid is going to die.
I was young and I hadn't worked out yet the link between going the toilet and eating.
I can't finish my potato I'm that worried, but amazingly (and kindly) my brother does it for me.
I go to bed hungry, but hey, at least I'm not going to die.

Robert is 10, he has been bought a Davy Crockett costume, including the coon skin hat.
I have a gun and holster set...
With him all dressed up and no gun and me with guns and no costume, we look a right pair of dickheads walking around Nechells.

It's Easter 1961 and there's a mix of brilliant sunshine and very quick early April Showers.
Our Uncle Les who lived with us calls me and Robert into his top bedroom in the attic.
Although he was always free with his time, taking my brother camping (and me the once to Arley) he didn't often buy us things.
He hands me and Robert a present each.
TWO magnificent Pop guns, painted black barrel, light brown wooden stocks and a deadly cork tied to the gun by a piece of string.
10 minutes later, the string was cut and we were firing small pebbles from the pop gun.

And I watched the August showers paint rainbows in the brilliant summer sun.
« Reply #1 on: August 11, 2013, 04:13:50 PM »

I just love that Kandor
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« Reply #2 on: August 12, 2013, 07:43:40 AM »

We sung a similar song when in the School choir but Ringo Star was unheard of in those days so we used Perry Barr instead.

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