Don Lane lived with his family at No.14 Creekmouth Cottages
I was very young when I was born
Seven years before the world apart, was torn.
In No.14 at the “Creek”
I opened my eyes and took my first peek.
A “skinned rabbit” I was called by Dad’s mate
When I worked with him later, this tale he’d relate.
Some things I remember of that time
you will find are set down in this rhyme.
Sliding down the bank on a sheet of tin,
going home to hear Mum say “What a mess you’re in”
On the ‘green’ we’d go camping for the day
where my front door was just yards away.
The time I fell through the Magazine trapdoor
into a pile of glass on the ground floor.
Carried home by Charlie Moughton, all covered in blood
life’s so much better when covered in mud.
Being chase by Mr Dare’s herd of cows – maybe five!
and thinking we were about to be trampled alive.
In forty-six, at Lawes, I joined brothers Ron, John and Dad
An errand boy was the first boy I had
On my bike to Barking, each day I would go
but get taken by car in the rain and the snow
I would like to see the ‘Creek’ now, to see what it’s like
but from Australia to there is a long way by bike.
Memories of the Creek often come to mind
I suppose being “True Creekers” we are all of a kind.
– DON LANE, 2012