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Poem by Marriott Edgar Albert and His Savings One day, little Albert Ramsbottom To see ’ow much money ’e’d got Stuck a knife in ’is money-box slot ’ole And fiddled and fished out the lot. It amounted to fifteen and fourpence Which ’e found by a few simple sums Were ninety two tuppenny ices Or twice that in penn’orths of gums. The sound of the chinkin’ of money Soon brought father’s ’ead round the door He said, ”Whats that there, on the table?” Albert said it were, ”Fifteen and four.” ”You’re not going to spend all that money...” Said Pa, in an admonitory tone ”On toffee an’ things for your stomach.” Said Mother, ”Why not?... it’s his own.” Said Pa, ”Nay, with that fifteen shillings, We’ll buy National Savings and then... In five years we’ll have seventeen and six And one pound and sixpence, in ten!” Young Albert weren’t what you’d call eager He saw his sweet dreams fade away, Ma said, ”Let ’im ’ave the odd fourpence.” Pa lovingly answered, ”Nay... nay!” ”It’s our duty in crisis... what’s ’appened For every child, woman and man To strain every muscle and sinew To raise every penny we can!” He said, ”Even this little fourpence... Might help us, the Germans to drub!” Then ’e dropped the four coins in ’is pocket And made for the neighbouring pub. These words stirred the ’eart of young Albert He made up ’is mind then and there To take up ’is part in the straining And sell everything ’e could spare. So off ’e went down to the junk shop With some toys and a flashlamp, he’d got. And the stick with the ’orses ’ead ’andle He received half a crown for the lot. He went off to the Post Office counter Where National Savings was bought But found that they cost fifteen shillings Which meant he were twelve and six short. The little lad wasn’t down ’earted He went off without wastin’ words And sold ’is dad’s smoking companion And ’is Mother’s glass case of stuffed birds. At the Post Office counter they gave ’im A certificate all crisp and clean Then back ’e went ’ome, to his parents To say what a good boy he’d been. They didn’t ’alf shout, when he told ’em By Gumm... but ’e were in the wars But at finish, they ’ad to forgive ’im It were all done in such a grand cause. There’s a moral, of course. to this story That’s pointing to you and to me... Let’s all be young Alberts and tend To defend the right to be free. Marriott Edgar Marriott Edgar's other poems: 1186 Views |
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