People fed the birds

People fed the birds

Tuppence a bag

Mary

Though quite contrary

Said it was just so

Beautiful to stand among them

All a flutter

Until they stole her fish supper

The dirt they left behind

Made a dowager cat go blind

Closed down the kiosks

Stopped minting coins

Carrying cash is anti-social

Eating chips out of yesterday’s paper

Is old news

Cod tasted so much better

Whist sitting

On the old school wall

Teenagers barely old enough

To drink

Throwing it all up

In the kitchen sink

Never again mum

A common response

To the disappointed look

Wait until your father gets home

A well-worn phrase

Cliched

Between three hail Mary’s

And songs of praise

On a Sunday

When the town

Closed down

For the day

Publicans stopped to pray

For an end to restricted

Opening

As they topped up optics

From quart bottles

Pulled

From the off licence

And pocketed the difference

As is their right

To accept a windfall

When they worked so hard

For a pittance

Nary a day went by

Without a barroom brawl

Burly miners

With nothing to do

Once the pit closed

Sinking their social

In the local

Until the bell tolled

And they rolled home

To face the disappointment

They never left behind

It was with them every day

They stood in line

To put their last quid on a horse

Of course

It didn’t win

Threw the betting slip in the bin

And watched

Ragged old birds

Fight over

The leathered sole

Of a greasy Wimpy

Then broke into song

It never took long

For old pals

To look back

In nostalgia

Feed the birds...tuppence a bag.