Another fine little poem by regular contributor, Charlie Freel. Judging by all his previous poems I feel it is time that Charlie compiled them into a book. This is just the latest in the line of many excellent pieces.
He stands on the same aul street corner, where his fathers had stood years before,
Recounting past glories of far better days, about the sash that his fathers had wore.
There were pubs then on every street corner, a bookies and chippie next door,
The pride of the East was Glentoran, so why would he want anymore?
But the Oval now sits nearly empty and its sad to admit, but it’s true,
Depression’s the scourge of the East now, instead of them hallions in blue.
Down Mersy Street, sat Gallaghers factory, the producers of Gallaghers blues,
Willy Woodbine was made on the Castlereagh Road, close by, the tool factory of Hughes.
Apprentices now are a thing of the past, as is working your way up, to the top,
If you’ve not got an “ A “ Star In everything else, common sense is considered a flop.
The cranes in the shipyards lay idle, the slipways are launching no more,
The ropeworks supplying its ropes to the World, has long ago bolted its doors,
But he’s still got his flag, and he’s still got his drum, and he’ll march till his feet they turn blue,
Because the past is all that holds meaning, when your future depends on the bureau.
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