LIFE ON CAMMELLS ROW
There’s not that many of us left,
Who lived on Cammels Row.
Dronfields Coronation Street
Of many years ago.
We had our Len Faircloughs
And Elsie Tanners too.
Also our local pub, “The Masons Arm”
Where we drank our favourite brew.
A neighbour used to cut our hair,
With a basin on our head.
The money that our parents saved,
Put jam upon our bread.
We cleaned our neighbour’s windows
And donkey stoned the sills.
For this we got a penny piece,
Which helped to pay the bills.
Now those days are in the past,
Lost in the mist of time.
Never to return again
And that’s a dreadful crime.
By
Alfred Weston
© Copyright Reserved 2003
There’s not that many of us left,
Who lived on Cammels Row.
Dronfields Coronation Street
Of many years ago.
We had our Len Faircloughs
And Elsie Tanners too.
Also our local pub, “The Masons Arm”
Where we drank our favourite brew.
A neighbour used to cut our hair,
With a basin on our head.
The money that our parents saved,
Put jam upon our bread.
We cleaned our neighbour’s windows
And donkey stoned the sills.
For this we got a penny piece,
Which helped to pay the bills.
Now those days are in the past,
Lost in the mist of time.
Never to return again
And that’s a dreadful crime.
By
Alfred Weston
© Copyright Reserved 2003
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