POETRY

Tommy Atkins by Jack A few peeled spuds an' a passnip, In hot drippin' in the pan to bake, Come naturally to chief chef Tommy, This cooking was a piece of cake. He'd bin doing it long enough now, To know what was what or was not, "A sprowt or two wow 'urt nowt A few peas an' steak, that's yer lot". Remembering when the joint he cooked, Used to be almost twice this size, It set his mind back to thinkin' Of the girl with the laughing eyes. Almost ten years he'd been alone, With the memories of Jane, his wife, "And memories are all I have now", Thought Tommy, "My God, what a life". "Ah, but just listen ter me thinkin', I'll soon be doin' it out loud, A walk I think, is what I need, If onny it wor soo cowd". With oven set at number three, And a heavy coat from his army days, An icy blast not deterring Tom, He was much too set in his ways. The grass was crunching underfoot, His breath hung steamy in the air, The hedgerows all agleaming white, With ice decorations in its hair. Christmas Day on Monday next, Nice things to eat and carols to sing, Not that it mattered to Tom anymore, No interest in what Santa might bring. He heard a shout from across the fields, Sounded like someone in trouble, Kids playing near the pool below, Tommy took off, at the double. A kid in the water, in the middle, Where ice was thinnest on the pool, Tommy's mind sought a solution, Ten years old, the bloody fool. Coat off and spread across the ice, To the biggest lad he called, They pulled a dead branch from a tree, On his belly Tommy crawled. "Just hold on tight now young 'un, We'll have you owt in a shake", The lad was clinging to the branch, "Please God please, don't let it break". Slowly Tommy pulled him in, To the side of the frozen pool. Shallow enough to wade in now, "By heck that water's cool". "Ave yer no more sense than go on ice?" Felt like giving the lad a cuff, "If you were mine I'd tan yer arse; I'd warm yer up right enough". He saw the poor lad had ague, And with his coat wrapped round the mite, Home as fast as they could scamper, Wet clothes off, " You'll be awlright". A good hot drink close by the fire, "Don't need ter tell yer do I lads? Now then, where's this poor kid living? We'll get off home ter yer moms and' dads". Spuds done like coal in the oven, Drying his boots on the range. "Well, Tom steak'll do, it'll ave to, A sandwich will make a change. Christmas Eve, old Tom sat home, With his favourite tipple of beer, He answered the door to two strangers, A mon an woman were stondin' theer. They explained as they were Bobbie's parents, An asked him to come round tomorrer, Ter dinner, 'course Tommy said "No thanks", But they insisted, they sen "yern gorrer". Any road, next day after dinner, With plum puddin' an whiskey an all, Bobby handed Tommy a package, "A present for me? There's no call". A gold watch hung from his fingers, On the back inscribed was his name, Old Tom felt really embarrassed, But fastened the chain all the same. "We just wanted to thank you Tommy, Without you our lad would be dead". A quiet word with Tommy later, "Sorry about the lampin'," he said. Young Bobby on his way to school, Each day to see old Tom he'd call, "No need to knock" Tom used to say, He was his best friend after all. They got on like a house on fire, On dark nights a game of crib, Young Bobby, well, he worshipped him, "What's the time now Tommy" he'd rib. And though Tom had a friend at last, Very often he pauses and sighs, Not an hour goes past unless he thinks, Of the girl with the laughing eyes.

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