Blind man's buff: in your own home 
and you could have been anywhere.
Pin the tail on the donkey: again blind as a bat
and how wrong you could be.
And the charades. Charade after charade:
at least you could see but were not allowed to speak.
What a riot, all played simultaneously.
Back then it was taken for granted
we knew our left from our right.
Labour was the working man's party.
The rest lay in wait for us
like avalanches after a pit explosion
or the shock of enemy bullets.
We heard tell of pillows and cushions in heaven
but looked no further than playing our musical chairs
while the party raved on.