The Felling Shore

by Wilf Mitford

Aa mind Sunday mornings doon by the Felling Shore
With me Father and me sisters when we would all explore
The place where he was born and bred, before the first world war
He would show us where he used to live, knocked down some years before

Though the people and the hooses were replaced by grass and trees
The Felling Shore was still alive in me Father’s memories

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