Summoned by Bells
Took a little time
to find the past
to walk the roads
we used to know
that lead us home.
Houses in terraced rows
that crowd around
the railway yard,
just sidings now,
all overgrown.
Above the high fields
clouds are grey and gold;
it's as good a place as anywhere.
War came
and fires were seen
from 30 miles away;
a city burned,
they wait in line,
out in the high fields,
summoned by bells,
church; school; factory; home.
Along the London Road
across the park at Spinney Hill,
sledging in the snow,
we had our scrapes and our fights,
it was part of the deal.
Time moved quickly then
things were changing all around,
the world came
to this small world,
over the hillsides and rooftops,
different stories were heard.
We moved on
found a new place,
we remembered the days
of our younger lives,
we moved on.
Long years pass
we walk the roads
we used to know,
carried with the
rain that falls.
A stone's throw from the line
some of the old places survive,
a golden thread in time,
a stream running down from the hills
into the heart of the high fields.
So come on now,
you know it's alright,
those were the days of our younger lives.
Early evening, midweek
in a market town,
walking down those
same old roads
we know.