80's Kid

My 80’s was Summerhill,
A Raleigh Bullet, mucky knees,
Wham Bars, Chopper bikes,
The Crane kick, Karate Kid.

My little bull dog frame,
Yet to grow into my head,
My asthmatic brother in crime
Running our cartel from hospital beds.

Knee high to a grasshopper,
Happiness in a one bedroom flat,
A car, mobile phones, my brother Darren,
Inconceivable, in the future sat.

80’s kids had Dads fond of the liquor,
Many a childhood day spent in the pub,
Club red lemonade, tattoo cheese and onion,
Kids corralled into the snug.

Bosco, Zig and Zag,
The commodore 64,
Barry McGuigan losing to Cruz,
Stephen Roche winning the Tour.

The Ormond cinema, 3p refreshers,
Costello’s shop, groceries “on the book”,
Bath night, too often times per week,
Mitching Irish dancing, piano lessons undertook.

We walked to school alone,
No stranger danger,
Learned to assess risks by ourselves,
Snowflakes will melt, given time away from the manger.

80’s kids, though now deemed relics,
Seems have turned out just fine,
No need for micro management,
Loosening the apron strings is not a crime.

Big hair, E.T., The Empire Strikes Back,
Walkmen, shell suits, mix tapes,
Ghetto blasters, VCR’s, Big Daddy vs. Giant Haystacks,
Lost Boys, Highlander, Rubex cubes and Slinky’s,
No other decade comes close,
You gotta love the 80’s…