Poem -

Ode To The Fiddle

Ode To The Fiddle

The Fiddle ‘Ith Bag
Is the first pub I remember as a lad
A family trip on a Sunday afternoon
The summers lasted forever but were gone too soon
 -
Falling down, nettles and skimmed knees
Not to worry, there’s plenty of dock leaves
“Come in now, it’s started to rain”
“Eat your dinner and you can go out again”
 -
And now much older
I walk through memory lane
As I stroll through Gypsy Wood
I smile, it’s just the same
 -
The walls inside celebrate the past
They remind us of a spirit that will always last
Of rationing, of war and how we made do
They saved the future for me and for you
 -
So before you sup the last of your pint
Give thanks for their sacrifice then turn in for the night.
 

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Comments

author
Tony Taylor

Hi SIR JOHN!!...... reminiscing can be such a powerful experience..... you've captured it here..... memories strong enough to bring back sights and smells..... and the sacrifices made......A every compelling piece of poetic verse BEAUTIFULLY delivered!!.......ALL STARS!!..... Kings to you my friend!!...... LOVE & ROCKETS!!!.....T xo ??✴?

Reply
author
John Astley

Thank you Tony, sometimes you only really appreciate things when you are a lot older in life.

This is a quaint little pub in Burtonwood in the North West of England, with many memories for me, it is full of antiques from the 40's and 50's, as it is close to what was an old US air force base. So as the poem states it celebrates the past and darker times and how a generation before mine the locals pulled through.

Many thanks friend

John

Reply
author
sparrowsong

Hello John...

We definitely can appreciate the memories indeed...

Great write!

Thank you for sharing...

Hugs...

sparrowsong

Reply
author
pauline codd

I enjoyed that, you've given me an incentive to write about a club we lost to fire...which was a Miners club...when I get in the mood...lovely John...x

Reply
author
John Astley

Thank you Pauline, I look forward to reading your memories and thoughts on the club.
I always value your insight.
X John

Reply
author
Larry Ran

Hi John,

If only "The Fiddler's" walls could speak
What guarded secrets they'd be able leak
Like the tears that grown men there had cried
When they heard in War, a close friend died

.
Or when a married man had drank too much
And he sought another's sexual touch
For alcohol brings loosened tongues
And life's unknown tales, are ever sung

Peace and Love,
Larry xxx

Reply
author
John Astley

Thank you Larry, very true.
An old pub with many secrets!

John

Reply
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