MEMORIES OF OLD KNOTTINGLEY

recalled by

FRANK WEBSTER CHAMBERS

Published in memory of Frank Webster Chambers with the
kind permission of his Grandson, Carey Jonathan Chambers

BOOK ONE

A RIDE ON THE MAGIC CARPET OF MEMORY

A journey around old Knottingley with Frank Chambers

Dear Vicar, with your kind consent, your congregation I will steer
On a magical memory carpet ride, spread over just one year.

Get settled on the carpet, as it starts in reverse gear
And we'll try our best to capture, the times of yesteryear.

Before our journey we commence, we'll drop in for a beer
At every pub in Knottingley, to fill us with good cheer.

The Commercial Hotel upon Hill Top is the first one we shall try
Then drop into the Railway, and then the L and Y.

The Duke of York in't Holes'es is the next we call upon
But it looks as if we're out of luck, he's rode his Bay Horse to the Swan.

If we're lucky there to find him, we must ask him there and then
Why on his journey from Hill Top, he lost ten thousand men.

The Duke of York, he hadn't lost his men.  He's sorry to relate -
They've joined the Earl of Warwick, on his Simpsons Lane Estate.

Next port of call the Corner, Sailor's Home, it's proper name
Many of our ancestors have gone and done the same.

Hitch your Wagon to the Horses, next stop Aire Street Hotel
I wonder, does the name of this pub, in your memory toll a bell?

If not, the Jug and Bottle, up the passage in the Buck
Was where you waited for your mother, as your dummy you did suck.

If we continue with this drinking, our memories it will sap
So let's land the carpet 'neath the Cherry Tree, and have a little nap

Do you feel better now you've had a little rest?
Because now it's the Red Lion, for a pint of Jimmy Brear's best.

Sorry Jim, we can't stay long, we've got to catch the Boat
And sail up to the Ropers Arms, whilst it is still afloat.

The Commercial on the Bendels and the Lime Keel can't be missed
If we carry on at this rate we'll be well and truly ******!

But this is a memory journey so let us no more sin
A half of best down at the Lamb and then the Anvil Inn.

But there were other pubs in Knottingley, you'll hear some bright wag shout
But if not logged in your memory you've got to leave them out.

We'll try and find the country walks, as kids we used to take
Then go home tired and hungry, to an oven bottom cake.

Cut open hot and steaming, then thickly spread with jam
Far better than a burger, or pink lint style boiled ham.

I'm afraid the walks have vanished, partly thanks to you and me
All overgrown with oil seed rape, as we sit watching our T.V.

That's the legacy of underuse, so let us from this day
Go out and see them opened up, no, let the farmer have his way.

Fill a bottle full of water, ask mother sandwiches to pack
We're going to the Bluebell Woods, on our memory ride they're back.

Don't let sister get the water first, or you'll find when your turn comes
She's been drinking with a mouthful and the bottle's full of crumbs.

The grapevines been a-buzzing, what has it had to say?
They're pulling peas tomorrow, somewhere on Catty Ley.

So get up bright and early, grab a bucket, fill your flask
But don't forget, before you start, how much a bag to ask.

Nine pence a bag at Fisher's, though they say his peas are flat
So up to Tommy Metcalfe's, for he says he'll match that.

But that fields full of rubbish, you sure have earned your pay
As you go home wet and weary, what a bloody awful day!

I'll leave all my pea-pulling, in the hands of Auntie Flo
Twelve bags a day she claimed to pull, come hail or sleet or snow.

It's time to spend your earnings now, what was your favourite shop?
Let's see how many we can find, before the carpet has to stop.

Go to Willy Wray's or Doubtfire's, buy a rabbit for the stew
To the Meadow for a jar of jam, to me it tasted more like glue.

From Hannah Rhodes' a donkey brick, to Clay's for marg' or lard
We can't afford best butter, times you see are very hard.

A pair of shoes from Carver's, or a nice new skirt from Lee's
Cut price chocolate from Lyons', Hodgson's breadcakes for your teas.

Times up now for spending, back we'll come another day
The shops we've missed will still be there, if on our carpet we do stay.

There are carnivals and holidays, to recover from the past
So let us go enjoy them whilst the magic spells do last.

Easter time shall be the start of our holiday review
Mashed potatoes, cod and parsley sauce, to see Good Friday through.

I really did not like the stuff, but mother said "Now, son,
If you lick your plate up nice and clean, you can have a hot cross bun."

This was merely an oval tea-cake, with a knife imprinted cross
Why this should make a change of name, for words, I'm at a loss.

With Easter time all over, and also Pancake Day
The tops have all been whipped to death and the marbles put away.

Whitsuntide is round the corner, there's new finery to purchase
New sandals, caps and trousers, and dresses trimmed with lace.

"How on earth can we afford it?", you hear your mother say
As with great expectations, we await that special day.

When all seems lost and hopeless, and brains racked till they're sore
A saviour is a-knocking, upon your kitchen door.

Oh no, it's not an Angel, that's been from Heaven sent
But give the Lord a bit of credit for the man from't Provident!

A cheque he's fetched to ease the burden, so enjoy your special day
Forget about the finance - you've twenty weeks to pay.

Summer days are fast approaching, on our magic memory ride
So let's think about school holidays, as in the past we glide.

With lots of time and lots to see, our days passed by with glee
And if your Father was a member, a club trip to the sea.

Did you go picking walnuts and badly stain your hands?
Or with wonder, watch a spider, as she spun her silken strands?.

Did you New-Nuts pick in Doley Woods?, or make a daisy chain?
Make straw houses in the pea field, and camp down Stocking Lane?.

These were standard pastimes, for the children of our day
We'd never heard of television, nor on computers did we play.

Carnival Day's approaching, let's shout hip, hip, hooray!
With comic bands and stalls and strands, we'll have a lovely day.

The streets are trimmed from end to end, the curtains washed all clean
The big day is upon us, a local beauty is the Queen.

Howard's Field is the rendezvous, where everyone will meet
When the Queen and her procession, have passed the bottom of your street.

Cycle racing, sports and handicaps, ice cream, a donkey ride
Which of you remember that frightening aerial glide?

The day it was a huge success, I only wished that it could stay
All the money that's collected, is to help the hospital pay it's way.

Fish and chips are on the menu, so no longer can we stay
A pennorth worth of chips and shoulders, "What are they?" , I hear you say.

They're bits of fish all battered, and very tasty too
Today, they'd call them fingers - I can't understand that, can you?

If shoulders now are fingers, and the fish shops sell hot pies
The sauce is now called curry, and the chips are now French fries.

Is it because of the Common Market, using Ecus or a Cent
To buy a straight banana, we're not allowed them bent!

Excuse that slip into the present - I simply just forgot
We don't want to taint our memories, with European Tommy Rot.

It's back to school tomorrow - I'm developing a cough!
And if I play my cards right, this will get me off.

But I've underestimated mother!, out comes her box of tricks
And Veno's Lightning Cough Cure, the trouble soon does fix.

I'll try an upset stomach, but that she quickly stops
A spoon of Caster Sugar, impregnated with Dutch Drops.

That woman had a remedy, for whatever you could name
A broken leg, a rash or toothache, to her were all the same.

Virol, Scotts Emulsion and Iron Jelloids too
Cod Liver Oil, Extract of Malt, or Senna Pods to stew.

Pink Pills if you were looking pale, Belladonna Plaster for your chest
Brimstone mixed with treacle, that was to spots divest.

Sanatogen to pick you up, Hall's Wine, Wincarnis too
Sloan's Liniment for aches and strains, that woman earned her due.

Lung Healers, they worked wonders, as did Potter's Asthma cure
And through a straw, Parrish's food, to keep your blood all pure.

I thought I'd risk an headache, before I went to bed
But quick as light, she had a cure, vinegar and brown paper on your head.

The woman from next door then knocked, could she cure her baby's ills?
She mixed for her oil of almonds, oils of violets, syrup of squills.

So having failed to skive a day, I hit the trail for school
And on the way, thought to myself, that woman was no fool.

I was tempted a sore throat to fake, but I'd sooner eat manure
Than face her ultimate deterrent, the dreaded Fevercure!

They're pegging out the flats tomorrow - excitement fills the air
For this ritual heralds to us, the imminent arrival of the Fair.

The next week will be hectic, for I most certainly intend
To make sure that when the Fair arrives, I'll have a bob or two to spend.

The rabbit skins I have at home, woolen rags and six jam-jars
Come hail or come high water, I'll be on them dodgem cars.

The Rag 'n Bone man's shout I hear, out to his cart I run
"I can only give you sixpence for that lot my old son."

Never mind, the kitty's started, on that I'll have to build
I must at least have half a crown, if my plans are to be fulfilled.

Granddad's snap I've taken - another tanner comes my way
Now I have a shilling, not bad for just one day.

Today our next door neighbour, wants some biscuits from the shop
On the completion of this mission, another pence I cop.

The weekly trek with Granny now, to the Co-operative on Hill Top
All her groceries she gets there, it was a really busy shop.

We load up all her shopping, in a great big baby's pram
She's got all that you could think of, bread and bacon, tea and ham.

She shopped for all the family, for the more that she did spend
Earned her loads of divvy, when it comes to quarters end.

So homewards with the pram full, to push it that's my job
Earning me another threepence - soon I shall have two bob.

I shop for Auntie on a Friday, at McDonald's, straight from school
Taking then the bus to Ferrybridge, laden up just like a mule.

She was quite a busy lady, the Midwife of the town
She knew about my kitty, and bumped it up to half a crown.

The fair is now arriving, and were going to survey
The rides and stalls and side shows, that have come on the first day.

By the time the weekend comes, the flats are packed jam full
The street itself is full of stalls, with which the crowds to pull.

There's Cocks and Hens and the Waltzers, Steam Yachts, the dodgems too
The Cake Walk and the Speedway - lots of things to see and do.

I went into the Freak Show, the largest rat to see
And then the smallest racehorse - I think they fiddled me!

The rat of course was not a rat, the racehorse not a horse
I was warned this show was just a con, and that proved true of course.

The dodgems were good value - we had a good long ride
Down now to the Boxing Booth, a bob to get inside.

No way could I afford a bob, so I volunteered to stand
Up there in front with an arm outstretched, with an apple on my hand.

The chap, he then held up a sword, and said, "What I'm going to do,
Is cut the apple clean in half, and cause no injury to you!"

He raised the sword above his head, but then, here comes the trick
I'd start to shake and tremble and feel extremely sick!

Of course, in this predicament, I let the apple fall
It was worth being called a coward, for free admission to the Hall!

He now starts shouting loudly, "Ten bob I'll pay tonight,
To any local boxers who will with my men fight."

He introduced one fighter, with just two fingers on his hand
Bitten off said he, by crocodiles, in some far off distant land.

"You're a bloody awful liar!", shouted out some local wit
"He lost them in an accident, at Masham's down the pit!"

I'll ne'er forget that fun-filled night, though the memory remains chilled
Some of the friends with whom I mingled, in the war were later killed.

Their names are etched in glory, and forever they should stand
As a cold bold stark reminder, "They gave THEIR lives to save YOUR land!"

The fair is nearly over, with rides and stalls all shut
But I finished with a goldfish, and a milky coconut.

A goldfish bowl upon a stand, became my dearest wish
The fish, I thought, did not look right, in mother's best fruit dish!

That wish, it soon was granted, and quickly put to rights
Via courtesy of Crystal Glass, and a neighbour working nights.

With winter nights approaching, sat before the fire all snug
My mother, in her wisdom, decided to prod the rug.

To make the task all equal, and give everyone a share
She gives us all a sharpened peg, and a nominated square.

The task it really was a bore - I quickly got the sack!
My square was full of spaces, and the clippings were too slack.

But the rug at last was finished, in shades of purple, blue and red
And starts its life not on the floor, but on the bottom of the bed.

The memory carpet cannot stop, next destination clear!
We're fast approaching Christmas, the apex of the year.

The tree is decorated, house all hung with paper chain
What will we get for Christmas?, that, a secret must remain.

At school it's breaking-up day, do you remember Gaffer Luke?
Reading from front page to back, Charles Dickens' famous book.

That must have taken some effort, I rightly hear you say
Tell me, how many teachers, would take on that task today?

Up early Christmas morning, look into the pillow slip
A John Bull printing outfit, and a chocolate smoking kit.

A Sewing Box for sister, and a noisy tambourine
"I've got more than you have!", I heard her suddenly scream.

After breakfast, round to Granny's, take turn and join the queue
For your apple and your orange and a shining penny too!

If some wag thinks that Christmas time, is no better now than then
Would they have turkey for their dinner, or a clapped out broody hen?

The memory ride is nearly over, and our carpet it must land
We'll touch down in the Greenhouse, alongside the new bandstand.

That, now is just a memory, one night it blew away
And it's never been rebuilt, up to this present day.

If by now, my fellow travellers, you're feeling old and rather tottery
Cheer up, have faith, this time next week, you could have won the lottery!

With many thanks to E.B.C, and likewise C.J.C
I hope you've all enjoyed the ride, on this flight of memory!

A Ride on the Magic Carpet of Memory
Written by Frank Chambers
Edited by Carey Chambers
With additional notes by Betty Chambers
1 March 1995

Reproduced here with the kind permission of Carey Chambers
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