No Photos Here

All over Blogland we can see pictures of people, living or dead, from full colour happy snaps to faded sepia, posed portraits. On the walls in my hallway I've a collection of my own, the oldest being a picture of my Mum, aged about four. I have very few surfaces for standing photo frames on, so the walls have been hammered into submission to display my personal rogues gallery.

Apart from these, I favour keeping my snaps in a small vanity case. They are easily accessible, and can be lovingly handled, one by one, each time I choose to wander back in time. Albums don't fill me with the same joy, though I do have a few organised samples in my bookcase.

Anyhow, the whole point of this post, is to let you share one of my favourite poems from childhood, which is all about photos on a wall. It's by Marion St John Webb, and is the last one in her volume called The Littlest One His Book...

What Andy Didn't Know

There's lots of people's faces
in photos on the wall
inside my Granny's parlour
an' all along the hall.
An' Andy said, "Let's see which makes
us laugh the most of all !"


An' some of them was nugly,
an' Andy laughed a lot,
an' said " Gee, look at this one !"
The whiskers he has got !"
An' me an' Andy laughed an' laughed
until we got all hot.

Then Andy found the one that made
him laugh the most of all.
A tiny baby's photo -
so nugly - on the wall,
an' sittin' in a pram it was,
all wrapped up in a shawl.

An' Andy laughed, an' I laughed
an' we kept laughin' so
that Granny came to find us.
She said, " Why, don't you know?
The baby in that photograph
is Andy - long ago ! "

Then no one laughed...And Andy's face
got red as red could be.
An' Andy wouldn't play again,
not anymore, with me