I am writing up and trying to decipher my Grandfathers poetry, over 200 and all handwritten before 1909 up to 1956. I have been invited, quite by chance, to speak about him and his poetry to a couple of local groups. I'm thrilled about it, as his writings deserve to be heard.
An ordinary working man, he was born in July 1870 and died on Jan 1st 1957. He left school at 10 years of age and went down the mines, he also worked in quarries, when laid off from the mines. He wrote poetry, did water colouring, had beautiful handwriting and was quite clever with such short schooling. He wrote about the times he was in, the suffering of the people and the beauty around him.
I've done a scrapbook page of one of his poems. I hope you like it, it was written in December 1916 during the First World War. The picture is of him and my Grandmother.
just a little explanation of a couple of words, in case you don't understand -
9 pence is the old money £sd, pounds, shillings and pence
to reckon out the taters - distribute potatoes
bacco - tobacco
Anyhow after all that here is the poem