Poem 'You and I, Joyce.'

Now I am old, memories flow,
Like rain, again and again.
Of those far off days when we were young,
And went BlackBerrying for mum.
Over the hills we would go,
Until our basket's flowed.
It was another life when we could roam,
Unhindered, until we went home.
Back in those days,
Good deeds were done,
Not always fun.
Mum always said, "Make yourself useful,"
You would remember Mrs Bengry, Joyce,
How she would say, "I'll give you sixpence
For your pay, if you weed all day."
Over in the field if the goose was loose
We had one eye on him. And yet every
time he caught us out, Joyce, you would shout,
"Watch out!" Too late, he battered me with his wings,
Then cackled like only a goose can,
His way of saying, "I can, I can!"
We got used to the fact that there was no pay
Forthcoming, just a promise to give it
Another day. This was made up for by a jam tart,
After our own hearts.
And then there was the acorns that had
To be gathered from under the trees,
On our knees. We would feed them to
The pigs, who grunted their thanks,
and wanted their backs scratched.
So life was spent in a slow gainful way,
Back in those days.