Cotton Town

 

‘It’s grim up north’

I heard him say

The old man knew

he’d worked in the mines

since the beginning of time

 

‘Salt of the Earth ‘

is what my mum said

‘Where the motorway is cobbled

and they still point at aeroplanes’

said others

- but with a grin

we take it on the chin

 

I can only hope she was right

she used to spin cotton

up every day at some unearthly hour

in winter she’d be lucky

to see the light of day

 

Dark satanic mills

maybe, maybe not

but there’s one on every corner

of my old Bolton town

 

The heart of the industrial revolution,

the land that time forgot

fire and brimstone

some ‘haves’,

but plenty more ‘have nots’

 

The old folk cut their cloth accordingly

maybe some of those values remain

but the world turns fast

we can’t keep up,

life just can’t stay the same

 

I’ve travelled well

but always return

to the home I know

the cotton town

where I was born.

 

Jeff Dawson September 2012

 

Pic - Swan Lane Mill, Bolton where my mum worked.