C
Colin Richards
Guest
Old Aston Cross
Faded images from yesteryear
Barely hidden behind these words
Rekindling memories of days no more.
Forgotten the fogs and rasping lungs
Stinking urinals under the silent clock
Buses late and overfilled
Open platforms off which to leap
To fall and curse while conductors laugh.
The Cross at Aston was known to all.
With Ansells hops and HP sauce
Mixed aromas arousing distant thoughts
The horse ’n’ carts and bread vans too
Old green co-op side of Thompson's pork
Two picture houses and pubs galore
Free Library for others and snooker for some
Destroyed by progress, its character gone
In memory only does its heart beat on
The old cross had it all.
Faded images from yesteryear
Barely hidden behind these words
Rekindling memories of days no more.
Forgotten the fogs and rasping lungs
Stinking urinals under the silent clock
Buses late and overfilled
Open platforms off which to leap
To fall and curse while conductors laugh.
The Cross at Aston was known to all.
With Ansells hops and HP sauce
Mixed aromas arousing distant thoughts
The horse ’n’ carts and bread vans too
Old green co-op side of Thompson's pork
Two picture houses and pubs galore
Free Library for others and snooker for some
Destroyed by progress, its character gone
In memory only does its heart beat on
The old cross had it all.