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My Dad Albert Bennett's poetry. Born in Lord St Aston 1922.

Anne Watton

Anne Watton

master brummie
Unfair Advantage


'Who smashed the blinding frame', said Dad
Unbuckling his big thick belt.
When I find the culprit,
I'll give him such a welt.
Them cucumbers in that there frame
Are liable now to die.
When I think of how I've nursed them,
It's enough to make me cry.
Us kids sttod in a silent group
Like all kids we acted dumb.
You'll get nothing out of that lot, Frank
They're as thick as thieves said Mom.
We all knew our kid sister
Chucked a stone at a neighbour's cat.
As usual, she missed, the cat ran off
The cucumber frame went 'splat'
Dad said 'You'll get no Sat'dy ha'penny
For three weeks, the glass to buy'
Then, our young wench said ' I did it Dad'
Copious tears began to cry.
This tearful confession knocked
The stuffing out of Dad.
She knew he wouldn't tan her hide,
as he would were she a lad.
The lesson that I learned that day
all other things apart.
Great big tears from little girls
can melt the hardest heart.
So a little girl has that advantage
over any chap.
When she's in a corner,
she just turns on the tap!


Anne
Please let me know if you enjoyed reading this. My Dad wrote lots of poetry and enjoyed sharing it with everyone until he died 5 years ago. Carl Chinn invited him on his programme about 12 years ago and he really enjoyed reading some of his poetry 'on air'. I have lots more to share, if you would like.
 
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I for one liked it... Down to earth and something I could relate to from my younger days growing up in Nechells... more please :)
 
Thank you Pomgolian, he'd be chuffed I'm sharing them with you. My Mom worked at Newtons/GKN in Thimblemill Road and my Gt Grandad died when he fell off Saltley Gasworks where he worked as a steeplejack. We could be related! I also write poetry so when I feel ready, I'll share some too. Anne
 
Wonderful memories Ann I remember my Dad's "frame" for his cucumbers he guarded it with such pride! Hope you post some more:).
 
Thank you all for all your lovely comments. Dad would have loved it, beware I have two books full. This is quite a poignant one, I grew up knowing the story of Wally Bill, our Dad took us to see wher they carved their initials in Stonebridge and to the Hall of Memory to see his name in the Book of Rememberance.

My Pal
We roamed Maxstoke's lane's and footpaths Wally Bill and I, when we were boys,
Bosom friends from infancy, shared our secrets, sweets and toys.
We poached the castle's moat and lakes, the cuttle we would try.
Anything we chanced to catch, took back to our tents to fry.
Kenilworth, Fillongley and Whitacre we explored on our old bikes.
How often these excursions ended up as darn long hikes.
But if misfortune or a puncture should render one afoot.
The other would walk with him, it was not discussed, the point was moot!
We often sat in grassy dells discussing afterlife and such,
And all the troubles of the world, of which we knew not much.
We were born on the exact, same day, made us kindred spirits from the start.
In our teenage years it took a special girl to try to prise us pair apart.
Several trie, used all their wiles, yet still we stayed together.
It took a war and 'three o three' to split us up forever,
He wasn't shot in action by a sniper with intent,
He was killed in a barrack room, in a stupid accident.
A fellow soldier failed to clear the final bullet from his gun,
Someone pulled the trigger and the dirty deed was done.
He lived a short but happy life. Is he in heaven? Who can tell?
I do know that the day he died, part of me died as well!

Thank you for reading
Anne
 
hi there ann
its now 4 45 in the morning on monday and as i have missed your thread or should i say your fathers thread
and from one poet to another poet that was really and truly fantascic piece of works by your father
i can see he as taken it from the contect of the working classs around him and reflecting on his life
at the moment i have stopped myself from writing words at the moment as i have such a lot of disdurbments going around my life and my persomal life
my daughter only said the other day i should start again but may be in the new year i will start again
and may be if we can have some more of your fathers work on the forum it may just spur me on again and may be our few other members whom are taled and have had there work on to do more i was very saddend to hear your father had passed away ann , what school did your father attend i went to st marys and upper thomas street
at a early age my mother whom went to a privatee school from the age of five until leaving age and got married
but she when she had kids she thrust us all with a pencil in our hands and taught us all how to write and spell when we was 3 years old and long before we started at five years old
any way it was a great pleasure in reading your fathers works and as you can see by the threads all our members really enjoyed and appreciated
please forwarded more ann best wishes astonion
 
Anne i really enjoyed your Dad,s poetry,thank you for shareing them.
i believe you write yourself?be nice to read..
regards dereklcg
 
Thank you both for your kind words. My Dad taught me to read when I was four and I've inherited his love of books and poetry. He left Aston when he was about six and moved to Stechford. He was certainly a character, he went to a workshop and learnt how to use a computer when he was 80 and passed all his exams then wrote his life story. The night he died he had been writing poems for the nurses at Heartlands. Bless him. Anne
 
I think you'll find this one a little more light hearted:

The Christening

We all went to a Christening in a High Church down our way,
I'm not what you call religious but try anything, I say.
The Christening group were stood around the font, the focal point,
The parson dressed up in his robes, had his nose put out of joint.
The choir in the Gods above us, hymns did sweetly sing
I though it sounded beautiful, my heart was taking wing.
The church went deadly silent, as the choir took a breath.
Then I heard a most peculiar sound that scared me half to death!
Then the rattling sound beside me became a thunderous roar
As the chap beside me fast asleep let out a ripping snore.
I was laughing at the face on the now astonished cleric
Whilst the mother of the infant was very near hysteric.
I nudged him in the ribs, he sat upright in shock,
The congregation stared at him, like he was in the dock.
There was a titter here and there, then everyone guffawed,
Except that is the Parson and the person who had snored.
Well that's just how it happened and we all left in disgrace
For having fits of giggles in such a solemn place.
 
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