Back lane memories.
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
Playing ‘Netty door’ football
On cobbled back lanes
Where the smell from the chip shop
Fought the stench from the drains.
Falling over dustbins
Washing blowing in the wind
Dribbling around gas lamp posts
Hands and knees all skinned.
Other kids queue up to play
Call out cock or hen
Above shoulder height is over the bar
And three corners make a ‘pen’.
Sixteen goals to Fourteen
The game is pretty tight
Then the lad who own’s the ball
Is called in for the night.
So the game has to be abandoned
And we settle for a draw
That back lane to us was St Jame’s Park
And the goals were ‘Netty doors’
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1