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Woodborough’s Heritage

Woodborough, an ancient Sherwood Forest Village recorded in Domesday


Life Story


When I knew Albert, many, many years ago,

We were young and in love, hearts all aglow,

Ready to face all that life and fate might throw.

What innocence and freshness those days recall,

When my young man man met me, we talked and kissed

And that was all.


A week in the country, a rucksack on his back,

A flask of tea and some tasty snack,

Nothing to pay but our train fare back.

All too soon came the parting of the ways

When we both grew up and went our separate ways.


The war came soon, with all the horror that brings.

We both joined the Air Force, I in the WAAF

And Albert got his wings.

I met an airman and fell in love once more,

He was handsome and brave and went off to war

In his great bomber plane,

Left me to wonder, would I see him again?


His plane was shot down in the hot desert sand,

He was sent home to his native land.

Compassionate leave, a quick forty eight.

By the end of that time my true love turned to hate.

“I have something to tell you,” my sweetheart said,

Into my heart came a feeling of dread.


“I should have told you before

I have a wife and a son aged four.”

I couldn’t believe the lies, the deceit

But kept to myself all the sadness and grief.

After years, the war ended, peace came at last.

I couldn’t see the future, but I’d done with the past.

Then out of the blue, a new chapter began

When Reg came to me and he was the man

To change my whole life

On that happy day when he made me his wife.


We made our home in a house on the hill.

It had stood there for years and it stands there still.

My neighbours just fields and the moor

And our lovely old home with its open door.


We laughed and we kissed, found our happiness there

In that house built of stone,

More love in our hearts that we’d ever known.


The years passed by, we had no regrets

In that dear old place I shall never forget.

But the day came at last when my Reg was to die

It seemed I died too, for I couldn’t cry.


I couldn’t stay on in that house on the hill

I knew if I did, I too would be ill.

I decided to move to a more peopled spot

And found me at last, a dear little cott,

And there settled down, content with my lot.


Friends and neighbours were good and kind

But I still felt lonely and oft in my mind

Travelled back to my home and thought to myself, if only.


A surprise one night, when on the ‘phone,

A voice from the past made himself known.

It was Albert, my love from long, long ago.


We talked and talked and came to know

The ways our lives had carried on.

It seemed his love had always been strong

For the girl he had loved

In those days long gone.


Comfort came to both our hearts

As we poured out our thoughts

When we talked on the ‘phone.

To know Albert is there, I’m no longer alone,

Now we’re both eighty the years quickly passed,

But it’s a great joy to know true friendship does last.


Holiday


We once had a holiday

Long ago, before the war.

In beautiful countryside

On the Yorkshire Moor.


We got the address from

A holiday travel book,

We were so lucky,

The landlady was a wonderful cook.


We had to be in

At 1 o’clock on the dot

Ready to eat choice Yorkshire puddings

All piping hot.


Later for tea, what can I say?

Cakes, tarts, scones and jam, what an array.

All home made, everything we ate

We didn’t worry then about putting on weight.


To Whitby we walked, just a few miles,

A quaint old town, the roofs of its houses

Have attractive red tiles.


And there we hired a boat, just for a kick,

The sea was so choppy

And soon I felt very sick.


I was glad when we landed back on the shore

I decided then to go sailing no more.

So we climbed the cliffs, tracked the streams,

Told each other of our closest dreams.


I don’t think they have holidays like that any more.

People now sit in their cars and tour.

All we wanted were simple pleasures

The beauties of nature, friendship to treasure,

Memories to keep in our hearts for ever and ever.


Christmas with Reg


When I think of Reg, who do I see?

A kind, loving man who meant all the world to me.

When I remember, I feel bereft

Wonder why I’m the one that’s left.


At Christmas time, memories of all the years

Bring back happy memories and tears.

I will not have a parcel with a funny gag

Written with love on a Christmas tag.

Nor a cuddle and a kiss

Those are the things I miss.


Days when snow came and blocked the driveway.

Reg would get the car out to clear a path.

The car would get stuck and need a push.

I’d be up to my knees in slush.


Why do we have to go out at all?

We don’t need anything and no-one’s likely to call.

But Reg must get out to the lane.

I plead, don’t bother, but all in vain.

It’s a challenge he can’t resist

And still carries on in the cold and mist.


Memories of roaring log fires

King’s College Cambridge choirs,

Mince pies, chocolate cake,

All kind of things I used to bake.


That was Christmas long ago,

Life’s different now as I surely know.

Without Reg, life’s just not the same.

There isn’t the fun and everything’s tame.


Thoughts on a Winter Afternoon


The world outside looks grey and cold,

But in my cottage, round me folds

Peace and warmth, just like a nest,

Makes me feel secure and so blessed.


With memories of all my days

I can follow the pattern and see the ways.

Things work together and make for good,

At the time I didn’t think they would.


Times when things went wrong

My heart would be sad and the days seem long.

But changes came and lifted the load,

Helped me over the roughest road.


So if we have faith, God shows the way.

One step at a time, day by day.

And we will find from worry release

Instead comes a deep and lasting peace.


Morning


When I wake up from sleep in the morning

And see the light of a new day dawning,

I wonder what the house will bring.

I hear the birds begin to sing

The benison of early morning tea

And a book to read that interests me.


Breakfast time with coffee and toast,

Welcome letters arrive by post,

A visit from a caring friend

Bringing a novel she’s going to lend.

The sun is shining and floods the room

Promising spring will be here very soon.


I look across at that empty chair

And thank God in a simple prayer

For all the memories of happy days

And ask for help to follow the ways

To keep me faithful and strong

To the high ideals I’ve known so long.


For my Mother


I wish my mother was alive to see

The domestic wonders that are the norm for me.

A washing machine with no need to ponch or boil,

Cutting out all that physical toil.

Put the clothes in, turn the knob,

No effort needed for this little job.


If outside it’s rain or snow

That doesn’t matter, they don’t need to blow,

To get them dry, touch the switch

And hey presto, just like a witch

You have finished the chore

Just in time, there’s a friend at the door.


You sit in the warm and cosy room,

Not as my mother’s was, cold as a tomb.

Switch on the kettle for a cup of tea

It will turn off when it boils, you’ll see.

What a lovely fire, the flames so bright

Making the atmosphere just right.


No coal to heave, no ashes to clear,

Life was very hard for her, I fear.

What would she think of these modern days?

I wish she could have know the easier ways.


I wish I could see her eyes light up in wonder,

Perhaps she is smiling to herself up yonder,

Knowing more marvels and glories

Than I’ve ever dreamed of in the tallest stories.

Then, her arms round me she would say,

“You will know all the mysteries one day”.


Friends


Real friends are strong and true,

With you when you are happy,

Still there when you are blue.

Without them life would be so poor

No-one calling at the door,

No-one ringing on the ‘phone

To have a laugh or maybe a moan.



In long gone childhood days

Friends meet to romp and play

At ball, skipping, whip and top,

Hopscotch, battledore and shuttlecock.

All the happy innocent joys

Playing together, girls and boys.


Later in our teenage years

We were swapping hopes and fears

Queuing for the latest pictures,

Supporting all the tennis fixtures,

Planning our next holiday,

Lands End, John O’Groats or Galway Bay.


In maturer years we still enjoy a laugh,

A gossip and bit of chaff,

What a lot of joy they bring

With their care and understanding.

Thank God for friends new and old,

Their worth to me, pure gold.


My Eightieth Birthday


On this special day

There is much I ought and want to say

Of thanks to friends and neighbours true

Who have helped over the years, quite a few.

Those who come to visit, take me out,

Do my shopping and without a doubt

Enrich my life, so I’ve nought but praise

For Woodborough folk and their generous ways


Golden Wedding


To Peggy and Royce I would like to say

“Thank you” for sharing this happy day,

“Thank you” for sharing over the years

Lots of laughter and some of the tears.


So many days of your happy life,

Spent together as man and wife

Will be remembered especially now

That unbelievably 50 years have passed somehow.


It doesn’t seem long since Lynne was born

You will never forget that October morn,

And now her lovely daughters have grown up to be

A much loved part of the family.


So we thank you for sharing this treasured day,

Ask God to bless you in every way,

Wish you all you wish yourself.

Wish you Good Luck and Your Very Good Health.


Summer 1995


The days this summer have long and hot,

Did I enjoy them? No, I did not,

Too hot to eat, too hot to sleep,

Too hot to cook, too hot to even read a book.


I dream of days of heavy rain,

Streaming down the window pane,

Wind howling round my cosy cott,

Making noises in the chimney pot.


Leaves falling, frost forming,

Dark nights, winter coming.

Draw the curtains, turn on the fire,

Of these things I’ll never tire.


Then I picture frost and snow,

Covering every hill and furrow,

White and sparkling in the sunlight,

Icicles hanging diamond bright.


When it’s too cold to venture out,

Then I’ll start to yearn no doubt

For long, hot summer days,

Showing just how contrary are my ways.


Message for Peter


I have found a friend with too much weight.

The doctor said, “Before it’s too late

You must lose some pounds from your tummy.”

Poor Peter gave up all things “yummy”.


Though it was hard, he did his best,

And trusted to luck to do the rest.

At first he found the weight dropped off,

Peter was pleased and felt a real toff.


But next week, O, what a change,

He was just the same, still in the “too fat range.”

He’s promised to have another go,

And hopes next time it won’t be so slow.

If he can lose a bit more weight

Jean will be thrilled and think he’s great.


Another Message for Peter


My friends Peter and Jean went on a cruise,

Promised to go easy on food, but not on booze.

Dining next to them sat a Rabbi and a priest

Who said, “Don’t diet, just get on with this feast.”

Peter decided to obey their advice,

Which was easy, the food was so nice.

When they came back they will have to change

Or Peter will be back in the ‘too fat’ range.

It will have to be a strict diet,

And Jean may have to read the riot

To get him back to look slim and trim,

The way he was before, when I fancied him!


Derbyshire


Memories in my mind appear,

Scenes beautiful, beloved and so dear.

Winter morning sun shining bright,

Bare trees etched in black against the light,

Hills and dales covered in frost,

Dry stone walls wander on until they’re lost.

Time rolls by, seasons turn and turn about,

On God’s eternal roundabout.


Spring begins her face to show,

The earth warms up, ‘tis the end to snow,

Flowers push through and face the sun,

The great re-birth is once more begun.

Streams and rivers in full spate,

The larks rise up to Heaven’s gate.

The beauties of this country, Oh so fair,

Nothing can surpass them anywhere.


Then autumn comes, mellow and fruitful,

Golden days of harvest time,

Thanksgiving to God for bread and wine.

Purple heather cover the ground,

In the hedgerows blackberries are found.

Blessing abound on every hand

In this my own native land.


My Great, Great Nephew


I’ve become a great, great aunt this week.

I would just love to have a quick peek

At his sweet little face,

I’m told the most beautiful in the whole human race.

I’m sure that must be true,

His mother was a lovely baby too.


Grandma and Grandpa are over the moon,

Bend over his cot and start to croon

At the drop of a hat,

Giving him a kiss and a lovely pat.

Uncle is stunned and quite bewitched

By this little child

With his tiny hands and looks so mild.


James Luke his distinguished name,

Dearly loved from the moment he came,

I wonder what he will grow up to be,

Someone wonderful, I guarantee.

May God bless this little boy

Fill his days with wonder and joy.

God help him always to be

Good and kind, like his family.


Thoughts On My 94th Birthday


I’m having a birthday soon,

I’ll be 94, so I’m told,

I think they’re wrong

I can’t be that old,

Yesterday I was 53

Now that sounds about right to me.


I went to town,

Had a drive in the car,

A nice walk down the lane

Though not too far.

Then I realised I’m daydreaming again.

I’m happier doing that,

The real world seems to be going insane.

Political correctness, murder and war,

Even common sense has gone out by the door.

When the world seemed kinder, safer.

Where did it all go wrong?


Thoughts On The System


Now Nora you must conform.

You must fit into the system,

You have to fit into the system.

The pill that you like and broke in two

Now that really will not do!

You see the bits will not

Fit into the flat pack.

Now we do have a pill

That is absolutely just right.

So you must give way, not fight

Then you will fit in

With the flat pack system.


The Final Chapter


I live in a big house now,

And here I shall end my days.

My housekeeper is very friendly,

Understands my funny ways.


The staff so willing to grant all my wishes,

The cook comes to discuss the menu,

Makes sure he prepares my favourite dishes.

The garden is beautiful, always neat.

I spend peaceful hours under a tree

On my usual seat,

Remembering much happiness I have had in the past.

And now I know loving care will

Surround me right to the last

At The Firs.


Nora Wright when she was a young child                       Nora when she was a girl                                    Nora & Greta with their parents


Nora & Greta                                                           Reg when he was a young man                                         Nora as a young woman


Fred, Nora, Julia & Ann                                               Nora & Reg at Coldharbour                                                    Nora in her cottage



Poems by Nora Wright





Nora Wright in 2001 outside the

Co-op store on Main Street


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