A Collection of Poems by Vera Elward

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A COLLECTION OF POEMS BY VERA ELWARD Illustrated by Jo Lewington

Sold in aid of St Mary’s Church Bampton Organ Restoration Fund and Bampton Community Archive

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Vera Elward Vera Elward, daughter of Ada Butler and Frank Tanner, was born in Bampton on 29th March 1923.

In 1940 she married Welsh airman David Elward.

She became mother to two daughters; then grandmother and great-grandmother.

Vera’s working life was varied and fulfilling culminating in 20 years as a Teaching Assistant at Bampton C.E. Primary School.

Vera is a very creative person, who has immersed herself in therapeutic poetry-writing following the death of her husband in 1991.

In 2015, at the age of 92, Vera undertook a sponsored microlight flight to raise money towards the refurbishment of the organ in St. Mary’s Church, Bampton.

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INDEX

4. A Mouse in the House 7. Clocks 8. For Hannah 10. Getting Older 11. Whitsun Flower Garlands 12. Holidays in London 14. Moving Home 15. The Tooth 16. My Friend 18. The Queen Mum 19. The Shirt Race 20. The Twins 22. Vacation 24. Witney 26. Samuel Oliver Arthur Pope 28. A Quiet Walk 29. Bampton Fair 30. Count Your Blessings

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A Mouse in the House Have you ever had your house Invaded by a little mouse?

I woke one morning and near the door Were little, black mouse droppings on the floor.

Some were even in my shoe, I didn’t know what on earth to do!

I’d never had a mouse before, It must have come in under the door.

Perhaps I ought to set a trap Or maybe borrow the neighbour’s cat.

And then I thought: poor little thing It must be hungry, that’s why it came in.

I thought if I fed it, it might go away But then again, it might want to stay!

What to do I did not know Oh, how I wish the mouse would go.

Next day, I saw it on the table To kill it, I knew, I was not able.

It looked so sweet, its little black eyes Shone like stars up in the skies.

I had to get it out, I knew But how to do it, I hadn’t a clue.

Then it ran down the table leg, onto the floor, Through the kitchen and out the door.

Its stay in my house had been very brief But to see it leave, was a great relief.

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Clocks

There’s a grandfather clock standing in the hall And an old railway clock hanging on the wall.

Big clocks, small clocks, clocks of every size.

Some are really ugly and some pleasant to your eyes.

There’s a willow pattern clock and one in a giant case.

One looks like a ying pan and one without a face.

That one came om Germany and this one om Japan.

Here’s a clock that looks like it’s been here since time began.

Clocks on the shelf, clocks on the wall, Clocks in the cupboard, where can we put them all?

You can see we can’t resist it when a clock is in a sale.

We feel we have to have it, so find another nail!

Put up another shelf, we can just make room.

You know we’ll have to stop this blessed clock-collecting soon.

We’ve got them in the bedrooms, in the kitchen and the hall.

Very soon there won’t be any room for us at all.

So wind the clocks up, darling And we’ll settle down to sleep.

Goodnight, God Bless – Oh dear, what’s that?

It’s your watch going BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!

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For Hannah

The telephone rings at 4.30 am, I wonder who it can be.

The excited voice of my grandson: ‘The baby’s arrived!’ said he.

My grandson’s baby, wow! oh joy!

My head is in a whirl.

A great-grandma, me, oh boy, oh boy, My great-grandchild is a girl!

At eight and a half pounds, not wrinkled or red, The delight of her proud mum and dad, She is beautiful, asleep in her pink little bed, The first great-grandchild I’ve had.

Much thought has been given to choosing her name, At last they decide on Hannah.

She’s the loveliest baby, I say it again, I’m so proud to be her great-grandma!

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Getting Older It’s awful getting older I oen hear folks say As they recount their aches and pains Which will not go away.

But it’s helpful to remember When considered overall That if we didn’t reach old age We’d not be here at all.

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Whitsun Flower Garlands When I was a child in Bampton, many years ago, Whit Monday was a special day as all Bamptonians know.

We all went out with garlands, made om wild flowers on a ame Of willow sticks, tied up with string, and carried on a cane.

We called at all the houses and knocked upon the doors.

They put coppers in our money box, sometimes three or four.

Nowadays, few children take their garlands round the town.

Most wild flowers are protected and not many can be found.

I hope the custom will not die, it’s a pleasant thing to see: Just a few wild flower garlands on a sunny Whit Monday.

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Holidays in London When I was young and the holidays came, We’d go to the station and catch the train.

Watched until the signal went down.

Then off went the train to London Town, In London Town we had relations Who always met us at Paddington station.

First night there it was early to bed, “Now be good girls,” our mother said, “Go to sleep quickly and if you do, Tomorrow we’ll take you to the zoo.”

In the morning early we heard the cry Of the milkman passing by, The rumble of tramcars and buses were new, And many other strange sounds too.

We rose very early eager to go, Hurry up mother don’t be so slow.

We went to the Tower, saw Tower Bridge too.

Watched it rise to let boats come through.

Hyde Park, Regents Park, then the zoo.

Now what else did we want to do?

Oh yes, the Waxworks at Madame Tussauds, We had quite a queue there and got very bored.

But at last we were in, they looked very real.

Suddenly, someone gave a loud squeal, “It’s alive!” she said, as she dashed by,

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The waxwork policeman has winked his eye!

He was real but pretended that he was a dummy.

Everyone thought it was extremely funny.

We went in The Chamber of Horrors-oh dear!

I clung close to mother, nearly in tears.

It was dark down there and I was glad to go, I wanted an ice-cream but Father said ”No, It’s almost your tea time, we’d better get back, I’m feeling quite peckish, I could do with a snack!”

Each day we visited interesting places.

They knew we’d enjoyed it by the look on our faces.

Too soon came the day when we had to go home.

Mother said, “Come on now, don’t you moan, Say thank-you to Aunty for having us here!”

Aunty kissed us goodbye and said, “See you next year!”

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Moving Home I’ll be sad to leave the old house and move to pastures new But I had such a great big garden, too much for me to do.

Hedges that need trimming, lawns need cutting too, Borders to be weeded, bedding out to do.

Vegetables to be planted, tended, watered, fed.

Hoeing out the tiny weeds om the onion bed.

I’ve apple trees and plum trees, currants red and black.

A walnut tree and strawberries. “Oh, my aching back!”

Once it was a pleasure, now it is a chore.

But memories I shall treasure of this house for evermore.

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The Tooth When Thomas found his tooth was loose He began to cry and fuss.

His mother said, “Don’t be a goose, It happens to all of us So wipe your eyes and stop that noise Or off to bed you’ll go.

Just give a tug and pull it out Then a brand new tooth will grow.”

He gave it a pull and then a twist And in no time at all The tooth was out and in his hand; It hardly hurt at all.

Tom had never lost a tooth before, This was the very first one.

He washed and polished it And then, when he had done, He put it in a little box And gave it to his mum.

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My Friend

When my iend Luke was in his teens, He wore t-shirts and Wrangler jeans.

On his wrist he wore a bangle, In his ears, earrings that jangled.

He wore Reebock boots upon his feet In winter snow and summer heat.

When his twentieth birthday neared, Luke decided to grow a beard.

The beard at ďŹ rst looked thin and wispy But then it grew quite thick and bristly.

No need to shave and that pleased himOnly just the occasional trim.

Luke was now a man he thought So nights out in clubs and bars he sought.

He soon discovered it was not all honey Bars and clubs took all his money.

So Luke began to mend his ways He joined a band and now he plays Rock music at the clubs in town.

Instead of spending, he saves pounds.

Now his life is bright and sunny He has no worries over money.

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Luke now has a brand new wife, His pride and joy, the love of his life.

A nice new house where they have settled down.

They are the happiest couple in town Indeed their happiness knows no bounds.

He’s a long way now om his troubled teens But he still wears Reebocks and Wrangler jeans!

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The Queen Mum A grand old lady is our beloved Queen Mum When they made her, they lost the mould.

As we celebrate the Millennium She will be one hundred years old.

Throughout the war, she braved the air raids Visiting the sick and bereaved, Showing she was not aaid, She was helping those who grieved.

This lady is admired by all, Here and the whole world over.

The mother of our own dear queen, It’s no wonder that we love her.

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The Shirt Race Every Whitsun Saturday the Shirt Race comes to town.

Boys and girls in fancy dress, racing round and round, Pushing prams and trucks in turn, stopping at the pubs.

Change positions- Pushers ride“Look where you’re going , you mugs!”

Seven pubs to call at; beer and squash to drink.

Beer is for the older ones, squash is for the kids.

Crowds are watching, cheering, shouting: “Stand back here they come!”

“Oh dear me, the wheel’s come off!”

“He’s landed on his bum!”

“Clear the way, here come the champs,” the crowd all shout and cheer.

It’s Tom and Jim, the firemen, they won the race last year.

The stragglers come in one by one, some are bruised and battered.

Poor old Ernie with his trike, looks absolutely shattered.

They line up for the prize-giving outside the old Town Hall.

The winners get a barrel of beer, And a good time was had by all!

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The Twins

Ted and Timothy were twins, But not alike one scrap.

Ted had eckles and very red hair; Timothy’s hair was black.

Ted was short and rather plump; Timothy tall and lean.

Ted was happy-go-lucky; Timothy was mean.

When they grew up, so sad to tell The story of the twins: They both fell in love with a beautiful gal, Her name was Valerie Binns.

Valerie Binns liked the look of Tim. He was most handsome and sleek.

But she knew that Ted was more sincere, For beauty is only skin deep.

So she chose Ted, much to Tim’s dismay.

Ted was highly delighted.

Tim packed his bags and went away; His love was unrequited.

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As time passed by the brothers aged, For years they had not met.

Ted was now the father of four, Tim stayed single – yet He’d had more girliends than hot dinners And committed many sins.

But he never could find a girl to love As he had loved Valerie Binns.

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Vacation

Dot and Carrie decided one day That they should take a holiday.

They couldn’t agree on a place to go Dot said, “the seaside.” Carrie said, “no.”

“Why not go on a walking tour?”

Said Carrie who hated the sea.

“Go on a walking tour?” said Dot. “Oh no, that’s not for me.”

“Then let us go our separate ways!”

Said Carrie feeling peeved.

“Now then,” said Dot, “don’t be like that We mustn’t disagree.”

So to the travel agent they went without delay.

Came home with lots of brochures And studied them all day.

They decided on Las Vegas, a holiday in the sun.

Yes, that was it. Their minds made up The booking then was done.

They went to London airport And started on their flight

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Slept away the journey as they travelled through the night.

Arriving there next morning, before their very eyes was Las Vegas in the desert: the gamblers’ paradise.

Being new to gambling, very cautiously they played Until they caught the gambling bug, Then they played all day.

Now their holiday was over and they’d had lots of fun.

Although they gambled every day, Dot and Carrie won.

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Witney On the banks of the Windrush Stands Witney Town.

Famous for blankets the world around.

But Witney has changed, They make blankets no more.

Sausage factory and cinema have now closed their doors.

There’s a bare, empty sight where sausages were made, For which, no doubt, a large sum will be paid To build homes for the homeless or, maybe, a pub.

The cinema now is a glitzy nightclub.

Witan House for the elderly, Luxury flats too.

Even a hospital to take care of you.

Police Station, Fire Station, Library, Court.

All built in Welch Way, plus car park, of course.

Waitrose and Gateway are superstores in town.

It’s no wonder the small shops are all closing down.

Housing estates busting out all around.

Hundreds more people filling the town.

There’s a swimming pool, squash court, a museum at Cogges.

Nowhere safe to walk your dogs.

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Humps in the road making traďŹƒc go slow, TraďŹƒc lights telling you STOP, WAIT and GO. This is progress they tell us, sad but true.

Out with the old and in with the new.

And so through the years We have watched Witney grow.

But give me old Witney as it was long ago.

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Samuel Oliver Arthur Pope

Mum Pope said to Daddy, “that baby must be christened.”

“Eh? what? oh! ah!” said Dad, who never really listened.

“He’s nearly six months old,” she said, “it’s time that he was done.

You’d better think of a suitable name to call your only son.”

“Micky,” said Dad, “now that sounds rather nice!”

“Oh no,” said Mum, “not Micky, that makes you think of mice.”

“Donald then,” said Dad, “that should bring him luck.”

“Oh no , indeed, not that,” said Mum, “They would call him Donald Duck!”

“What about Samuel, aer your Uncle Sam?” “Ah yes,” said Mum, “I quite agree, a fine name for a man.”

“Now what about another? He must have a second one.”

“Oliver, yes, that sounds good,” said the doting mum.

Just then Gran came in and said, “oh, choosing names?

Well lad, I think you’d better call him Arthur aer your dear, old dad.”

So there it was. He had three names and the vicar they went to see.

He said, “We’ll do it on Sunday at a quarter aer three.”

On the aernoon of Sunday they took their baby in the pram.

The god-parents, uncles and aunts were there Also, his dad and mum.

The vicar said, “I christen you Samuel Oliver Arthur Pope.”

“Oh, good Lord!” a voice rang out, “his initials stand for SOAP!”

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A Quiet Walk I went for a walk up Mount Owen Hill, The sun was shining, the air was still.

I saw a brown skylark high in the sky; A blackbird sang in the hedge nearby.

Suddenly a stoat crossed om one side to the other, A small rabbit huddled close to its mother.

I heard the cuckoo for the first time this year.

It wasn’t in sight but it sounded quite near.

In the hedgerow were cowslips of beautiful yellow And I saw a red fox: a real handsome fellow.

Out in the field a cock pheasant was strutting.

Magpies were chatting, partridge tut-tutting.

There is nothing as pleasant as a walk in the Spring To see the wild animals and hear the birds sing.

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Bampton Fair In August the Fair comes to Bampton’s streets.

Round-a-bouts, bumper cars, candy floss, sweets, Hot dogs with onions, beef burgers too, Chips. humbugs, coconut ice, all made to tempt you.

But it’s not like the old days when horses were sold; Gypsies buying and selling with sovereigns of gold.

No cheque book or bank cards were used in those days.

It was cash in hand, that’s how they paid.

Now, there’s only the rides, the sideshows and stalls; The one-armed bandits and rolling the balls.

You might win a coconut or fish in a bag, But for the money you spend, you know you’ve been had.

The prizes are trashy and not worth a cent.

But despite everything, you feel glad that you went.

The fair stays three days and late the third night, All is packed up to move off at daylight.

Streets must be swept, all litter cleared.

Good-bye Bampton Fair, see you next year,

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Count Your Blessings

Count your garden by the flowers Never by the leaves that fall.

Count your days by golden hours Don’t remember clouds at all.

Count your nights by stars, not shadows.

Count your life with smiles not tears And with joy through all your journeys.

Count your age by iends not years.

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A Bampton Community Archive publication.

First published April 2016 BCA-38 www.bamptonarchive.org

£5 57 PLU