TIP-CAT
 

I well recall the "Twenties", though I was just a child

The winters all seemed very cold, and the summers very mild.

We shivered in the winters, short of food and clothes, and fire.

While some devoured pop and ices, we would just perspire.

Then once a year our dreams came true, in August as a rule.

A day out in the country, given by the Sunday School.

There were cold drinks made with lemons, frozen custard for ice-cream.

And prizes for race winners, as the climax of our dream.
 
 
 
 

Often on our way to school, old fashioned games we'd play,

Not just "Touch" and "Hop-scotch" as the children do today.

Sometimes a different game called "Tip-cat", that needed lots of space.

It started with two bits of wood, and then became a race.

A cigar shaped stick laid on the ground, was struck near to one end,

The force of the blow decided to what height it would ascend.

A well aimed blow whilst still mid air, and down the street we'd race,

With stick, to strike it once again, at it's landing place.
 
 

Return To Published Menu