OLD BOOTS (Paul O’Brien)
I went to throw away my old boots
And I stopped to take a look
At the traces of all the corners
I’ve turned and roads I took
Every stitch could tell a story
Every line read like a book
I’d bought them for two guineas
I was sure they brought me luck
Farewell companions,
at work and at play
You were there right with me,
every step of the way
I wore them first on Sundays
And tried to keep them neat
But soon I wore them daily
Like silk gloves on my feet
They brought me to the seaside
And all around the town
And I brought them to the shoe shop
Every time the heels wore down
I stood them in the scullery
And looked at them again
But I couldn’t find the strength
To throw them in the bin
I got up for work next morning
And went to put them on
But the wife had gone and chucked them
And my faithful friends were gone