How Things Change!

 

I grew up hearing

About place and time

Today, however,

So much is out of line.

 

In my late teens

If I quarrelled with Dad

That would be a slap,

Quarrelling was bad.

 

I was working then

I had a job,

Thinking about it now

Makes my head throb.

 

Sunday school was a must

You dare not ask,

Once it was Sunday

That was your task.

Sunday morning

And in the evening too,

It was Sunday school

For the entire crew.

 

We had home chores

That had to be done,

No excuses accepted

From daughter or son.

 

Wares to be washed

House to be swept,

Yard fire bright

Or lashes you’d get.

 

Home by a certain time

School or church,

From such instructions

Don’t dare shirk.

 

My favourite spot

Was the front step,

Any further than that

And I could be wet.

 

With permission sought

The limit was the gap,

Any infraction

Could incur a slap.

 

No favouritism

Among the siblings,

All had a bit

In what was sharing.

 

 

If one was out

His share was kept,

Another demand

That had to be met.

 

Quarrels were short

Disputes brief,

They were not condoned

By either chief.

 

Mother or Father

It did not matter,

Cross this line

And there was bother.

Training was at home

Learning at school,

One was not allowed

To grow up a fool.

 

School was a must

Licks like peas,

Two biscuits and milk

Without any cheese.

 

We could not chime in

When adults fret,

Another bad decision

We would regret.

 

Respect your elders

Always be polite,

Stay away from trouble

Definitely no fights.

 

No bare back

Or whistling at home,

Not in this house

You’re not yet grown.

 

 

Four fast asleep

In one single bed,

In many cases

Just front house and shed.

 

Kitchen and toilet

Out in the yard

And if it’s raining

Things could be hard.

 

Plant something

And let it grow,

In this way

The less you owe.

 

Games fee a penny,

Hard to come by

But it was a must

One dare not defy.

 

With your teachers

Do not mess

Whether at school

Or holiday recess.

 

Manners maketh man

We were often told,

Slip up at anytime

And licks you’d hold.

 

 

In a child’s back

You’d find his ears,

Beat the back

And the child will hear.

 

An oft-made remark

From a teacher I knew

But most back then

Held that view.

 

But things changed

Nothing so now,

How it got to this stage

I’ll tell you how.

 

The right to do

As everyone pleases

No matter who

That one squeezes.

 

A crime is only if

You get caught,

A few in jail

But outside a lot.

 

Different stokes

For different folks,

Once known standards

Are now jokes.

 

Roles are reversed

It’s like a curse,

In very deep waters

We are immersed.

 

How to get out?

Only God knows,

The fact we ignore Him

Causes these woes.

 

 

It’ll only get worse

Yes, this curse,

There’ll be no reverse

Till we put God first.

 

Stewart Russell © February 2019