We ate chips

We ate chips

Out of newspaper

They were covered in salt

Soaked in vinegar

Scraps were a prize

For thrupence

In old money

Crumbs of batter, crispy offcuts

Eaten from greaseproof packets

Fingers wiped on the sleeves

Of hand-me-down jackets

After Saturday morning pictures,

Featuring weekly episodes

Of Flash Gordon or Batman

Who seemed to die

In every last scene

Only to have escaped

The next time we went

To the screen on the green,

We piled into Glassford's

Backroom sweet shop

For lucky bags

Or sherbert dib dabs

Pretending to be Robin Hood

Fencing with a plastic sword

It might have been wood

When older than wise,

We watched rock bands

At the Miners Welfare club

A colliery village hub

Where we sipped

A pint of very ordinary

Federation beer

We stood,

Naive young boys in the hood

Backs to the wall

As the girls danced,

At closing time,

We joined the queue

To buy cod and chips

Eaten out of newspaper

Covered in salt

Soaked in vinegar

The headlines were written

On the tips of our fingers

Mohammed Ali was a God

The Beatles

Working class heroes

We sat on the old school wall

Can you believe

It was just three feet tall

What were they thinking

It is long gone now

These days

Kids travel five miles to school

Back then if we didn’t fall

Headfirst into the yard

We would brag

Of girlfriends we never had

Laughed and sang

Until we were sober

Before parting ways

And walking home

Nowadays

We would take a cab

Order a takeaway

Have it delivered by Uber

But nothing tastes the same

As it used to

Covered in salt

Soaked in vinegar

Having a good laugh

Eating chips from the pages

Of yesterday’s paper