After a recent old photograph of my family came to light, I’ve been asking other members of my family for copies of old photos that they might have hiding away in bottoms of drawers and cupboards and in attics.
Over the weekend my father’s brother came to visit for the annual Penistone Show, he comes every year! A few days before he arrived I asked my father to phone him and ask him to bring any old photos he might have of members of the family, he agreed to bring what he could find.
On his arrival on Friday afternoon he produced a large envelope with lots of old photos and copies of birth, marriage and death certificates of lots of my family members on my fathers side. A geneologists dream!
I didn’t have chance to look through them properly as I was due to head over to Leeds and so my uncle agreed to leave the documents with us until his next visit.
I spent the weekend in Leeds and then came back over to Penistone this morning to find that my father hadn’t even opened the envelope, he said he was waiting for me to come back before going through them all. So after making a cup of tea we sat down and opened the envelope and spread the contents across the kitchen table. There were lots and lots of lovely old pictures dating back to the mid 1800s.
There were a few photos that also had protective paper covers and on opening one photo a piece of folded paper dropped out. It was yellow with age and smelled of dust. When it was carefully opened up, it was a poem, presumably written by my grandfather on the first of August 1944.
This is a photo of Fred, my grandfather, below.
The poem was titled “To The Doodle Bug”. I’m not sure if it’s finished or whether there is supposed to be more, but I have scanned the original for you to see below.
For those of you that do not know what a Doodlebug was, click here. Those that do know will understand that although it’s not a brilliant piece of poetry, it’s very poignant for those who lived through the blitz in 1944, and as we’re commemorating the start of WW2 over here in the UK, I thought I’d share this with you all.
I’ve also transcribed the poem below if you can’t read my grandfather’s handwriting!
To The Doodle Bug
Doodle doodle doodle bug,
How I hate your ugly mug,
Flying high in the sky,
Telling some-one they must die!
Fatser! Faster! Faster still,
As we all run up the hill,
Standing at the shelter door,
Hear your noisy engine roar
When we hear your engine stop,
In the shelter we must pop,
But with our jet propelled flame
We shall send you back again.
When we see the damage done
Then we think it’s time to run
Lots of us evacuate
When to others we relate.