Entry: TITUS STREET by Val Woolley

TITUS STREET
by Val Woolley

How often on a winter's morn
I'd wake before the day was born
To hear the clogs on Titus street
The wooden clogs on busy feet
On dyers feet, who worked in wet
I close my eyes and hear them yet
The quiet men who stand and wait
Beside the heavy mill yard gate
That opened as the shifts begin
To let the dyers clatter in
But woe betide the one who's late
The gate was closed, he'd have to wait
The one who'd missed the knocker's call
Whose pay was docked and known to all
How oft times now, when days are wet
I strain to hear that clatter yet
Of wooden clogs on busy feet
On Titus street, on Titus street.