The Woolton Picture House

Hidden away, almost out of sight.
And recently almost said it's final goodnight.
I was there that evening, and tears were shed.
Because of the memories it held, and the things that were said.
I first went there as a boy, all those years ago.
And always came away as a cowboy, or some kind of hero.
I've seen films in that cinema that have not left a dry eye.
I've seen the Daleks defeated, and I've seen Custer die.
In the intermission, I'd buy my sweets and ice cream.
Sold from a tray, beneath that big famous screen.
And the outside would be decorated with colour posters and stills.
Previewing forthcoming matinees, and those great double bills.
A survivor of a bygone age, draped in all it's finery and grace.
And I hope it lives forever, no more long battles to face.

By Mike Bartram