I recognise many of these people. Grangetown Baptist is my home church and my mother was born in 1935 - Valerie Mayne. Her father is Herbert Mayne and he was Superintendent of the Sunday School. You can see him starting some of the races!
This is my Mum's poem about the Whitsun Treat. She lived in Tremorfa in Cardiff. THE WHITSUN TREAT - Margaret Morgan The Reverend said when we met in the street “If you don’t come to church, you’ll be sorry For you won’t get a ticket to the Whitsun Treat And you won’t get a ride on the lorry”. So there we were on Sunday night All dressed in our fine Whitsun clothes Up on the platform behind the pulpit We stood in neat little rows. The Reverend said a blessing He said “It’s nice to see you here I only wish it was every Sunday Instead of just once a year”. Mam swore he was looking at us when he said it And she said “You’re not going again”, But on Monday she had us up early And down at the church by ten. She wrote my name on my ticket And pinned it to my frock Then she tied my money in a hankie And stuffed it in my sock. (Well knickers don’t rhyme with frock!) The day was bright and sunny As we leaned against the wall Watching them fill the lorry With benches they took from the hall. Then off we went to St Mellons Behind The Fox and Hounds The Pub itself - the Reverend said- Was strictly out of bounds. But Dad and Mr Foley went - They went about eleven They were very merry by half past one And paralytic by seven. Meanwhile, we had the races Three-legged and Egg and Spoon Then the boys rode a race on their father’s back It was just like a scene from High Noon. We had a mug of milk and a sticky bun Which they served in the big Marquee And later on, a bottle of pop And a piece of slab cake for tea. Soon the day was over And we climbed back on the lorry Dad snored all the way home And Mam said he’d be sorry. Oh yes we had a marvellous time A really lovely day It beats all those trips to a foreign clime No matter what they say. I think of all the children Going off by car or plane To spend their Whitsun holidays On the sunny coast of Spain. Just think what they are missing As they lie there in the sun Stingy nettles and cowpats And a great big sticky bun!
Wonderful, thank you very much for sharing.
I recognise many of these people. Grangetown Baptist is my home church and my mother was born in 1935 - Valerie Mayne. Her father is Herbert Mayne and he was Superintendent of the Sunday School. You can see him starting some of the races!
This is superb.
We all went to Sully with the Ebenezer Chapel in Corporation Road , Happy days
They didn't mess about in those days did they, they even built the swings.
This is my Mum's poem about the Whitsun Treat. She lived in Tremorfa in Cardiff.
THE WHITSUN TREAT - Margaret Morgan
The Reverend said when we met in the street
“If you don’t come to church, you’ll be sorry
For you won’t get a ticket to the Whitsun Treat
And you won’t get a ride on the lorry”.
So there we were on Sunday night
All dressed in our fine Whitsun clothes
Up on the platform behind the pulpit
We stood in neat little rows.
The Reverend said a blessing
He said “It’s nice to see you here
I only wish it was every Sunday
Instead of just once a year”.
Mam swore he was looking at us when he said it
And she said “You’re not going again”,
But on Monday she had us up early
And down at the church by ten.
She wrote my name on my ticket
And pinned it to my frock
Then she tied my money in a hankie
And stuffed it in my sock.
(Well knickers don’t rhyme with frock!)
The day was bright and sunny
As we leaned against the wall
Watching them fill the lorry
With benches they took from the hall.
Then off we went to St Mellons
Behind The Fox and Hounds
The Pub itself - the Reverend said-
Was strictly out of bounds.
But Dad and Mr Foley went -
They went about eleven
They were very merry by half past one
And paralytic by seven.
Meanwhile, we had the races
Three-legged and Egg and Spoon
Then the boys rode a race on their father’s back
It was just like a scene from High Noon.
We had a mug of milk and a sticky bun
Which they served in the big Marquee
And later on, a bottle of pop
And a piece of slab cake for tea.
Soon the day was over
And we climbed back on the lorry
Dad snored all the way home
And Mam said he’d be sorry.
Oh yes we had a marvellous time
A really lovely day
It beats all those trips to a foreign clime
No matter what they say.
I think of all the children
Going off by car or plane
To spend their Whitsun holidays
On the sunny coast of Spain.
Just think what they are missing
As they lie there in the sun
Stingy nettles and cowpats
And a great big sticky bun!