In the town where I grew up,
Were factories large and small.
Most had factory chimneys,
Some had none at all.
Cobbled streets and gas lamps,
Horse and carts and clogs.
Top and whip and hoop and stick,
Heaps of thick, black fog.
In the town where I grew up,
The ragman used to call. He'd swap your rags for pumice stones,
He'd take old pans and all.
Stone pop jugs with handles,
Houses back to back.
Outside lavs and tin baths,
Sacks of nutty slack.
In the town where I grew up,
Winter cold and dead.
Baby's wrapped up warmly,
A drawer for his bed. Overcoats and overshoes,
To tread the winter's snow,
Pom-pom hats and mufflers,
Faces all aglow.
In the town where I grew up,
No more these things are seen.
It seems a million years ago,
As if it were a dream.
If I could travel back in time,
To then, I'd rather be,
To sit with my old Grand-dad,
In times that used to be. Mrs Julia Mary Robertson
Begonia Avenue, Farnworth
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules hereComments are closed on this article