Now there’s a pastime for you;

Young enough not to know better

We taught ourselves how to,

And sometimes paid the price


We carved figures of eight

Figures of three and five too

While Hopper McGrath kicked a hole in the shallow end

With thumps from the heel of his shoe


But nature had the last laugh

And slid him into a clump of nettles

And the breath laughed from the rest of us

Like steam from the spouts of kettles


Cracked ice, grass-crunching like apple-munching

Shiver-me-timber dancing

The old farmer prancing

And helter-skelter

For the school-yard shelter


Nowadays skating on thin ice comes easy


my new book of poems ’67’ is now available as an ebook, and in paperback soon.

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