Bygone Age I hitched a lift on The Enterprise And asked Captain Kirk to travel in time And take me back to the golden age I’d learned of in story and rhyme. Where folk lived in peaceful pastoral bliss Far from the noise of this modern life Away from traffics’ polluting fumes Away from the rat race strife. They set me down near a cottage gate And a friendly family gave me a home My bed was lumpy and hard-I missed My deep-sprung mattress and pillow of foam. I lay there and thought-I’ll switch on the light And read a book or watch t.v. I started to wonder if I could cope Without libraries and electricity. No instant hot water, no washing machine No shampoo, no razor to shave my legs No aspirin, no plasters, no instant coffee No crisps, no Cadburys cream eggs. No blockbuster films or c.d.’s to enjoy No Indian or Chinese take-away treat No pill, no condoms, so farewell to sex And what’s worse, no Coronation Street No fairground rides or kiss-me-quick hats No telephone, no one to ring up and talk The only amusement they have in this place Is to go for a bloody long walk. No suncream to stop my skin turning red When I get wet there’s no tumble dryer I usually have to get wet twice a day As I search for wood for the fire. No doctor on call, no anti-biotic No clean milk in sterilised glass No transport, no bustling brightly lit town I’m sick of the sight of grass. Pastoral bliss has lost all its allure Each night I stand and gaze at the skies No, I’m not communing with moon and stars I’m looking for Kirk and The Enterprise. I want to go back to where I belong There’s a lot to be said for modern times The golden age should stay in its place Just a fancy in stories and rhyme.Birth sign: Aquarius
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