THE SUMMER OF ’59 by Paul Kennelly March 16th 2010
A Poem , of Childhood in Coventry
Over the fields , warm summer breeze , rolling through hedges , bruising our knees
up to the signal box on the branch line , this was our summer of ‘59
climbing the trees in Wainbody Wood , building our dens wherever we could
sometimes in rain , sometimes in shine , this was our summer of ‘59
a bus ride to town, at front on the top , demolishing buildings , watching them drop
hoardings and concrete , all looking fine , this was our summer of ‘59
a brave new city , raised from the ash , a modern Cathedral , so full of dash
while in the old spire , the bells still chime , this was our summer of ‘59
Paul and Brian , then there was John , David and Chris , both sadly , gone
now gently fading with passage of time , that was the summer in ‘59
A Poem , of Childhood in Coventry
Over the fields , warm summer breeze , rolling through hedges , bruising our knees
up to the signal box on the branch line , this was our summer of ‘59
climbing the trees in Wainbody Wood , building our dens wherever we could
sometimes in rain , sometimes in shine , this was our summer of ‘59
a bus ride to town, at front on the top , demolishing buildings , watching them drop
hoardings and concrete , all looking fine , this was our summer of ‘59
a brave new city , raised from the ash , a modern Cathedral , so full of dash
while in the old spire , the bells still chime , this was our summer of ‘59
Paul and Brian , then there was John , David and Chris , both sadly , gone
now gently fading with passage of time , that was the summer in ‘59
