A Country Boy
Among the notes that my father made at a time in his life when old age curtailed his ability to toil away in the outdoors, there are some verses that he put to one side. I think appropriate to share this one with you now. It is true to every line of his time growing up in Ditcheat.
A Country Boy
Many a time
when I was a lad
I listened
to tales from my old Dad.
Tales of joy
and tales of strife
when folk
enjoyed a harder life.
When man
would toil from dawn ‘till dusk
just to earn
an honest crust
I remember too
when I was a lad
of all the
fun there was to be had.
To stand by
a field on a summer’s morn
and watch a
machine make sheaves of corn.
We’d chase
the rabbits for miles with sticks
and watch
the farmer thatching ricks.
To ride on a
wagon back to the farm
and play in
the yard without risk or harm.
We’d wander
for hours in leafy lanes
and hear the
whistle of far-off trains.
I remember
the rooks near the old church spire
and fresh
buttered toast around an open fire.
But when I
look at my young son
will he ever
know such simple fun?
When grown
to a man will he look back with joy
and be glad
he was born a Country Boy.
J.H.S.