My Old Boots

My 'monkey boots' when I was growing up
were like two of my own best friends.
Hardly a day did we spend apart,
wherever we'd walk or wend.

Two rugged bits of cobbled leather
with scuffed up toes and laces,
with cardboard inside
from the wear of the slide,
on the ice or the gravelly traces

It's with a sad heart
when dad gave a start
as he saw the state of my boots.
He packed me off to town
with two worn half-crowns
to buy new footwear for each foot.

Don't you dare come back
for 'monkey boots,' I'll smack
that grin from off your face.
Head slumped, and frowned
I traipsed off to town
to get the ordered items to wear.
But when I got back,
dad saw the tracks and
I got a belt round my rear.