I went to The Wentworth with my dear, old mum,

a treat for surviving the lockdown in her flat.

We sat in the corner, well away from the draft.

 

A man at the bar was staring at me.

He was stocky, not tall, but his look was hard,

And his attitude was surly, which put me on guard!

Was this a throwback to my reckless youth?

Was I about to face the moment of truth?

My nervousness, as I approached the bar,

                                increased when he told me,

“I know who you are!”

“Oh! do you?” I stammered,

“I don’t think we’ve met!”

“You’re Johnny B and the image of your dad,

and your dad is a man I will never forget!

He ran our youth club when he was alive.

To all us layabouts, he devoted his time,

And Frank Botterill taught me how to drive!”

 

Alan bought me a beer and shook my hand,

and we drank down a swift one for Frank.

My mum was on her own on her big day out,

but I knew that she would understand.

 

We were toasting our village’s community,

and honouring a great man’s legacy!