Part Three: The Good Old Days

 

In the good old days

I could say what I wanted

and I loved everybody.

Back in the good old days.

 

I was busy making

and racing my wonky billy cart

I didn’t have had time

to be mentally healthy.

 

When I woke up

I wound up my rusty old watch.

A family heirloom.

A precious reminder of my grandfather.

 

I enjoyed eating everything.

I was never ever told

What foods would cause me to

Kick the bucket.

 

Me and my mates in the boat

Caught flathead who ate anything.

We never measured what we snagged.

Never took a photo of our catch. 

Part Two: The good Old Days

                                                    Click on the photo to hear the song
            

            In the good old days

I could say what I wanted

and I loved everybody.

Back in the good old days.

.

My letter box housed

Letters, junk mail

And postcards from friends.

In the silly season, Christmas cards.

.

A week after my holidays

I liked my photos.

My friends came to a slide night.

I told the story in each and every slide.

.

When a bushfire approached

The story of my life.

Hundreds of heavy photo albums.

Filled my wheelbarrow.

.

Sunday in the local church

I squirmed and fidgeted

with my neatly dressed mates

and gawked at the females.