In dreams, my thoughts will often fly
To Chepstow nestling on the Wye
The town which saw my early years
Of youthful joy and childish tears.

Daily walks to Larkfield School
And week-end jaunts to Beachley Pool
The memories of a growing boy
Are endless days of utter joy.

We boxed and wrestled, pushed and shoved
With friends who were so dearly loved
Dartboard hung on kitchen door
All this in a time of war.

Food was rationed, sweeties too
Everybody had to queue
To get their weekly allocation
And thus it was across the nation.

But the folks in Chepstow town
Never let it get them down
They’d relax, I do recall
With dancing at the Public Hall.

Young farmers would arrive by pony
To glide to music from Bertoni
Some memories still make me blush
Those quick caresses in the crush.

And later on, when darkness fell
Frantic kisses in the Dell
Frequently my mind recalls
Canoodling near the castle walls.

Stolen moments of delight
What a way to say goodnight
All this, while Britain fought the Huns
Oh, weren’t we the lucky ones.?