Class Of 54
I saw an ad in the local paper
A reunion for the class of 54
I decided I would attend
I've never been to one before
It should be grand and lots of fun
So I rented a tux and black tie
Put new batteries in me hearing aid
Bought a wig and polished me eye
I emptied a bottle of old spice
Did me toupee nice with brylcream
I soaked me teeth in steredent
Then gargled with some Listerine
I soon arrived in splendid form
Smelling my very best
It was held in a hall at an old folks home
A place called the shady rest
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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The Attic
The attic holds such fascination
I climb the ladder in trepidation,
The attic is a time machine
Most things hidden and unseen,
I lift the hatch and take a peak
The old rocking chair begins to creak
Dust coats the old wooden chest
The lid embossed with a crest,
All the games of yesteryear
In the corner, uncles spear,
Boxes piled with books and photos
Most containing all my heroes,
Snakes and ladders, ludo, lots of games
They belonged to my brother James.
Oh! look my old train set
On the ledge fathers old cornet,
A place where I can come and dream
Oh! just hit my head on the beam,
Underneath the old guitar
Just found my 007 car,
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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Well Here's Another Nice Mess You've Gotten Me Into
On a mountain in Virginia stands a lonesome pine
Just below, the cabin home of a little girl of mine
Having the time of our lives
Far from our sweethearts and wives.
Since January, April, June or July
Snow time, pay no time to stay
We're going to see, we're going to see
We're going to see my home in Dixie.
I knew I'd found my paradise
Honolulu baby, where do you get those eyes?
I'm in love with you
With your eyes so blue.
You do the tango jiggle
With a Texas Tommy wiggle
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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Through Struggle To The Stars
With roar of engine in his head
Wishing he could’ve stayed in bed,
Off to battle with a grin
Higher, higher the air getting thin.
Over the water testing his gun
Enemy sighted here comes the fun,
In his tail, the guns start to roar
His wing is hit, still shoots as before.
Tail gunners are sharp and quick to learn
Some of our friends never return,
Look out, fighters are coming in low
They maybe ours, don’t shoot ‘till you know.
Bombs away boys then turn back
There’s the target give it plenty of flak,
Planes going down, exploding in the air
We think of loved ones and whisper a prayer.
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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Forgetful
Can you see my keys?
I can't remember where they are
See I really need to find them
Or I can't get in the car,
Every time I walk into a room
It's all very hazy
My remember is broke
And it's driving me crazy.
Have you seen my glasses?
I'm sure I put them there
I'll just take another look
Maybe they're under the chair,
Sometimes I put things away
Where it's safe, you see
The only person that it's
Safest from usually is me.
Did you see my coat?
I left it on the hook
Oh please just help me
Take another look.
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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Halloween Evening
The moon was lost behind a cloud
When something weird went by
I tried to see what it was
But it flew so fast and high.
I don'tbelieve in witches
But that is what I saw
Sailing high in the sky
On broomsticks made of straw.
The stars were gone the night was dark
When something else took place
I couldn't quite believe it
There was a gruesome face.
A skeleton with corpse like face
I viewed it in awe
I don't believe in zombies
But that is what I saw.
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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Hen Party
The hen night is a girls night out
Time for girls to bind and shout
They say all they have to say
Prior to the wedding day.
This night is special with your friends
A time to share stories and make amends
The bride to be has a list to do
From snogging a fella to stealing a shoe.
It's required that you have lots of fun
As certain things should always be done
Some of the things are a tradition
Handed down from the female institution.
This girls night out is quite unique
Not designed for hearts too weak
So please raise your glasses
To this wild bunch of lasses.
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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Sexy AT Sixty
I was fit and feisty at fifty
It was no big deal
Because that's how half a century
Is supposed to feel.
In my sixties I'll take stock
Start making new plans
Ignoring all the cant's
Embracing all the can's.
Can I be sexy at sixty?
And try all the fashion and fads
Wear stockings an suspenders
And Joan Collins shoulder pads.
I can deal with sexy at sixty
And wear Vivienne Westwood clothes
Dress up and go out on the town
Wearing all my buttons and bows.
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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THE Machine
I went to the doctors the other day
Told him my boobs were sore
I'm sure there's nothing wrong he said
Have a mammogram just to be sure
So off I trot to the clinic
When I saw this big machine
The nurse said strip to the waist
Don't worry love it's just routine
She plonked my boob on a cold slab
It really made me shiver
Reminded me of a butcher
Weighing a piece of liver
Then she said hold it like that
A heavy plate descended
And squashed my boob flat
Pain and embarrassment
Was more than I could bear
I wanted to complain
But I didn't dare
I felt like a prisoner
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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The Races
I've won a day at the races
For me and my friend Doreen Maguire
Posh frocks and new hats
That's what we require.
So off we go shopping
Hair and nails done on the way
Well we girls want to look our best
For the big race day.
Now Doreen's buxom and curvy
Me I'm thin as a latt
Or you could say slim and slender
And Doreen's just fat.
We went in loads of shops
Nothing seemed to fit the bill
Everything was kind of frumpish
And we're definitly not over the hill.
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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