To my readers:
I use language here in the form common in the past in a working class mill town in the North of England . We always referred to people as our Mam,our John or mi Mam,mi Dad.
I rode on a horse on the Merry- Go- Round at the New Year Fair,
And every time I came around,our Dad were stood right there.
The horses they went up and down,as we whirled around.
To me,so small, they seemed so high, way up above the ground.
You knew I loved those colourful horses standing up right tall;
So you let me ride on one,though Mam thunk me far too small.
I shall never lose the happiness,riding with a view..
But far more than I loved those horses, Dad, you know that I loved you.
I wish I were a child again and you were with us today.
I think we’d recognize your voice,and be eager for what you’d say.
Why did God take you off,it seemed to be so wrong.?
But thanks,our Dad,for the Merry- Go- Round,and thanks for all your songs.
I think that life’s like a Merry -Go- Round that we are turning on.
And every time it whirls right round.someone else has gone.
We don’t know how long we’ll ride here so merry,and so gay.
So enjoy the Revolution now,and say what you really should say.
The world may be a Merry Go Round and we are nothing but fools
We had so much bounty and yet we break life’s rules.
We strong ones steal and injure as we pass this way,
Will we ever realise…. it’s a serious game that we play?
Thanks our Dad, for the memory and thanks for all your songs.
Now my heart grows weary so I shan’t linger long
I tried to use my talents, like the Bible said.
I trust sweet God to judge me well,when in human terms I’m dead.
Note:I must have been three when this happened.Dad was keen on Fairs and Pantomimes