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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418137" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Civil Wars I</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old Ha made his own ice lollies: <br>Orange and juicy, tuppence each.<br>Two massive sucks and they were gone; <br>he always kept them out of reach. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The roads were made from different stuff back then.<br>Oozing tar would puddle up and bubble<br>for bare feet and fingers to leave prints in, <br>and tarry digits always meant trouble. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A brand new school was being built, <br>Jones's mill was about to fold, <br>the last of the steam trains were gone<br>and peace was just eighteen years old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Broadwood road had an old ford car on bricks.<br>Douglas Road just one red mini on wheels.<br>Peter Styvesant cigarettes were cool, <br>and you could eat milky ways between meals.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">New Persil nineteen sixty two<br>had nothing on Omo or Daz<br>and Mentadent and Steradent, <br>kept our teeth looking less than flash.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Local wars were civil enough, <br>breaking out like a sudden spark<br>that flared, and died away as fast<br>at school, at home, or in the park.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It wasn't a park though, in sixty three.<br>The Martins lived on it in a tin hut.<br>There was a bank in the middle of it<br>and a patch of grass that the locals cut.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It doubled as the &quot;football ground&quot;<br>with a pavilion minus walls<br>and windows, and no roof or door. <br>From time to time there were no balls, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">but when there was, football was a hard game; <br>blowners then were as heavy as a head -<br>ev'ry high ball a life or death affair -<br>just one header and it was straight to bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Us wee boys built our bonfire there, <br>right in the middle of the pitch, <br>and all the wood we gathered up<br>the big boys burned before the fifth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old school in the woods would soon be closed; <br>seven classes, one teacher; it was tough, <br>ducking wooden dusters and blocks of chalk.<br>She taught us all she could, even the duff</div><div style="margin:10px 0">pupils amongst us learned more than enough<br>for the simpler lives that old world allowed.<br>Wilson's &quot;white heat&quot; would soon be turning up, <br>but we were still miles from the madding crowd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">29 12 11</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jim+Hogg">Jim Hogg</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418137" data-title="Civil Wars I de Jim Hogg" data-description="Old Ha made his own ice lollies: 
Orange and juicy, tuppence each.
Two massive sucks and they were gone; 
he always kept them out of reach. 

The roads were made from different stuff back then.
Oozing tar would puddle up and bubble
for bare feet a..."></div>
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