Walking past the plots

In my mind I see

Children playing on the swings

One of them is me.

 

Les is with me on that day

And there are several more

Among the other children

Are friends from long ago

 

It is Friday evening in summer

Though it's not very late

It's the eleventh of July

In nineteen fifty eight.

 

I am trying all the tricks

Like swinging on the bar

When I went too high, missed my step

The swing carries me too far.

 

I have landed on my ankle

As it crashed into the floor

And the first ones there to help me

Are my friends from long ago.

 

My ankle is becoming swollen

The pain shows on my face

But tomorrow is the gala

And I have the half-mile race.

 

In the final year at school

It was everybody's plan

To win the half mile race

To leave the school a man.

 

I woke up on the Saturday

My ankle black and blue

I wrapped it up in a bandage

I knew what I had to do.

 

I had to run the race

I had to try and score

For I wanted to impress

My friends from long ago

 

The race was under way

I knew in the opening lap

I would have to surge ahead

And open up a gap.

 

I felt my ankle hurting

Each time it hit the floor

I was buoyed up by the cheering

From my friends from long ago

 

One more lap to go

And still I was in the lead

Would I fulfill my dream

Was I going to succeed?

 

It was then I saw the finish

My ankle very sore

And yet I could hear the cheering

From my friends from long ago.

 

But then my hopes were shattered

My opportunity missed

Beaten on the final run in

By a boy named Peter Twist.

 

In one week I was leaving school

I still remember that day

When I said goodbye to my friends

And went sadly on my way.

 

I knew that I would miss them

Wherever I would go

But the ones I'd most remember

Were my friends from long ago.