Mind Yer Car, Sir?
My Mum and I lived in Venmore Street
close to Liverpool's ground in Anfield,
one of the streets where you could
mind a fella's car for a tanner
-- although how I, a girl of five or six,
could "mind" a car beats me.
But, somehow, when we were
seated behind the wheel,
with a brown bag of sugar butties
and a bottle of lemon pop,
we gained a prestige over
the bullies who'd terrorize
little girls like us. ("Hey, sis,
yer Ma wants yer boots to boil
the peas in!") We would just honk
the horn to alert our mums of trouble!
By Margaret Goings