A short poem of living on Ransom Road by Chris Moore
We lived at number 49 right in the middle of the street.
I thought I had the best house & was best place to meet.
My grandma used to mash a brew & take it to her friends
She’d walk up the street with a pot of tea to where the terrace ends
My grandad used to take me a walk with our dog Jimmy the rough collie
A lot of the time it was rainy & wet but he never took a brolly
I used to play in our back yard
Although the concrete was very hard
I have very fond memories of living there
But now they have all wheelie bins out front which I cannot bear
My grandma used to bleach the step & window sill
I don’t think many people do that still
They are all replaced by pvc & plastic
I don’t think that’s All that fantastic
I loved our house on Ransom Road
Number 49 was our humble abode
We lived at number 49 right in the middle of the street.
I thought I had the best house & was best place to meet.
My grandma used to mash a brew & take it to her friends
She’d walk up the street with a pot of tea to where the terrace ends
My grandad used to take me a walk with our dog Jimmy the rough collie
A lot of the time it was rainy & wet but he never took a brolly
I used to play in our back yard
Although the concrete was very hard
I have very fond memories of living there
But now they have all wheelie bins out front which I cannot bear
My grandma used to bleach the step & window sill
I don’t think many people do that still
They are all replaced by pvc & plastic
I don’t think that’s All that fantastic
I loved our house on Ransom Road
Number 49 was our humble abode
website:
https://stannswellroad.weebly.com
facebook group:
www.facebook.com/groups/StAnnsWellRdPreDemolition1970
https://stannswellroad.weebly.com
facebook group:
www.facebook.com/groups/StAnnsWellRdPreDemolition1970