by Harry

A lot of people may have difficulty understanding some things ( meanings, words ) in this poem especially those who live aboard.

Coming from Belfast i understand it completely, going back to my childhood.

Any questions about it just ask please.

Posted for Barney.

Memories of a Belfast street
Memories so bitter sweet
Memories producing tears
To mark the passing of the years

Life today, it’s clear to see
Is not the way it used to be
Lacking warmth, devoid of grace
Lived at much too fast a pace.

More and more I reminisce
Of all I knew and loved and miss
And often sit and sadly brood
On better days, now gone for good.

Torn newspapers in the outside loo
Melting bones for making glue
A pig’s foot with a glass of stout
A horse that pulled a roundabout.

Going to a beetle drive
Woodbines in a pack of five
A man dispensing delph for rags
And giving children paper flags.

Trundling with a cleek and hoop
A grocer with a sugar scoop
Noisy, clicking metal frogs
Marmalade with gollywogs.

Children playing piggy stick
Trimming down the Tilley wick
A willow patterned dinner plate
Rubbing Zebo on the grate.

Ardglass herrins on a cart
A slice of mince and onion tart
A bicycle with luscious stocks
Of ice cream, in a wooden box.

A half-moon scrubbed around a door
Mansion polish on the floor
Riding on a clanging tram
The taste of homemade damson jam.

Soup from Sunday’s remnant bones
Co-op quarters, cobblestones
Caley suckers, catching spricks
Playing tig, liquorice sticks.

Women gossiping in their shawls
Oilcloth shining in their halls
Gypsies selling wooden pegs
Tasty little banty eggs.

Sunday round the parlour fire
A street Salvation Army choir
A tick man calling, Friday night
Senna pods to keep you right.

A scullery with smells delicious
Jaw-box filled with dirty dishes
Wintergreen upon a bruise
Heelball on my Sunday shoes.

Meccano sets and Dinky trucks
Windows filled with drinking ducks
Soot inside the chimney flue
Walls with greetings from Skiboo.

A griddle baking soda bread
A gaslight glowing overhead
Butter running in hot champ
Youngsters swinging round a lamp.

McCooeys on the radio
A church hall magic lantern show
Jumping with a skipping road
Find toothed combs and Derbac soap.

Coalbrick steaming, freshly made
Ross’s sparkling lemonade
Wooden pens with blotty nibs
Spinning perries on the cribs.

Memories of a Belfast street
Recollections hard to beat
And crying when I dwell upon
A Belfast that has long since gone.



  1. A very lovely piece indeed. Recalling lots of beautiful details. Time changes things, places, people and concepts. Welldone!

  2. really like this

  3. one of the best posted here.

  4. Harry, that’s beautiful! Love it. I like the line about banty eggs. My grandparents lived on a farm and raised banties. I loved the little brown eggs.


  5. I don’t think I need to understand every word, this poem gives so much imagery that I get a good picture of Belfast in the past!

  6. Very Nice poem. Best Post indeed.

  7. Two people have pointed me towards this poem

    I am delighted they did

    Wonderful – I was right back there with you


  8. I thank you all on behalf of Barney.


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