THREE WORD WEDNESDAY
'bane, acrid, tepid'
'bane, acrid, tepid'
BAN THE BUTT!
The bane of my life is cigarette smoke; I really can't abide it!
I only took one puff in my teens and regretted that I'd tried it!
The acrid smoke got in my throat and made me wheeze and choke;
While my eyes were red and streaming because of the awful smoke!
I bathed them in tepid water, but I couldn't ease the ache!
And I wondered 'Why does anyone ever smoke, for goodness sake!'
So I haven't smoked for sixty years! And that really makes me glad!
Why should anybody smoke? I think they must be mad!
If it's nasty when you start and it kills you in the end,
It seems that everybody should try to buck the trend.
As for a conversation involving smokers' breath,
I reel away from the speaker! The smell is the smell of death!
I don't feel tepid about it; I feel quite energised.
The bane of my life is acrid smoke!
There! That's been emphasised!
In my recollection
It was much worse than this!
I don't recall its coming.
One moment the air was clear;
The next we were enveloped
In a sticky yellow blanket!
Black. Yellow. And sticky.
They said it was sulphur,
It certainly smelt like it!
It certainly tasted like it!
Clean Air was a long way off.
I have several clear memories
Of that unusual event;
The Great Smog of 1950.
I remember going to a dance
At the Kensington Town Hall.
Males and females sat
At opposite sides of the ballroom.
The 'ladies' waited to be 'asked.'
Only, on this occasion,
(And we were inside a building, remember!)
There was fog drifting between us.
I can smell it now,
I can taste it now.
And I can see it clouding the electric lights!
I can also remember trying to find my way home.
I couldn't even find the kerb!
I had to feel with my toes
For the edge of the pavement!
And great black bodies kept looming up
Right in front of me!
'I couldn't see my hand before my face'!
Not just a glib saying,
But a reality!
I recall hearing about the sheep.
There was an Agricultural Show
Thousands of sheep died!
Finally, I remember the aftermath.
How the smell and taste lingered for weeks.
How all ones clothes were
Tinged with a yellowish grey.
How the 'fog' hung around in ones nose and ears
It was a curse.
Yet it was a blessing.
Finally, London became