
Born in Pompey was I, with the Luftwaffe on its way,
Elm Grove it was, number 27A.
There came bomb sites on which to play, full of butterflies, nettles and dens,
and heaven it was, for me and my friends.
Fratton Park, where Dad died while watching Pompey play:
Christmas it was, I miss him to this day.
The big clock on St. Jude’s, in view as I ran to school,
chiming 9 it was, as I dashed to my stool.
Long days spent at the beach,
happy days spent at the rink (a shilling it was for the skates and a drink).
Walking home late at night
after a dance on South Parade Pier,
it was fun, there was nothing to fear.
Climbing Spinnaker Tower to see Pompey from above,
thrilling it was, to view the city I love.
Since Nelson’s time my family have been there.
Great it is, Portsmouth’s past to share.
Image ‘View of Portsmouth and Portsea Island from Portsdown Hill, UK’ by Alan Ford used under a Wikimedia Commons public domain licence.