Albert was a villager who contributed to the free newspaper – Village Life – that was published regularly. He wrote under the pseudonym of Marshal Bronte. He moved out of the village to Sheffield and his niece has a collection of his work. Some samples of his work are below and we will gradually add to them. There’s one about the market, with all of things that longer-in-the-tooth villagers will remember were there on Tuesdays and/or Fridays. We hope to add a photo soon, and more about his life
The day war came I was just six years old, going on seven
And I firmly believed that there was a God in Heaven
Rossington was only small then, but just about every kid went to church
And if you were naughty or did something very wrong, you got the cane or the birch
Children were taught manners and to know right from wrong
Teachers were disciplinarians and in that department they were very strong
Parents too, kept you on the straight and narrow
Obedience was a word you followed to the marrow
The people or Rossington were so kind and caring
The community spirit was always one of sharing
Through the long dark days of war, everyone was your friend
And together you hoped and prayed for the war to end
Most of your fathers worked down the coalmine
Whilst our big brothers were away fighting on the front line
Some of our mothers worked on a munitions factory, others on the land
Everyone was doing their bit with a big helping hand
Food and everything else was on ration
And the clothes you wore never went out of fashion
Bombs fell locally but we had a lot to be thankful for
But places quite near, like Sheffield, suffered the horrors of war
Rossington provided a home for evacuees and the Bevin Boys
And the Hippodrome provided us kids on a Saturday morning, the cowboys
The main entertainment was got by listening to the wireless
Defending Rossington was done by the Home Guard and ARP Wardens who worked away tireless
The St John Ambulance, the Home Nursing and WVS at the ready
The community spirit of Rossington remained at all times steady
During the hours of blackout you were quite safe to go out
In them days you didn’t get confronted by some savage lout
And you were quite safe to leave your door off the lock
And all the nice pretty girls always wore a frock
Not like today when all girls and boys look very much alike
And you always saw your village bobby every day on his bike
But alas, times change and this is now 1995
People have changed, today they lack the initiative to contrive
So let’s hope the effort of the Rossington Community Festival prove to be a guide
As so much needs to be done to keep today’s kids fully occupied
And the community spirit needs to be fully 100 per cent
Then, and only then, will the time, effort and money, will be deemed well spent.
TAILPIECE – A TAILOR-MADE TALE
I bought a shirt on Rossington market
Because there’s no need to order by mail,
But I’d like to meet the one who did mark it
Because I’ve got Joyce on my tail.
It’s not army or navy, I think it must be RAF.
It’s thick and warm and it’s not be worn
But to have Joyce on my tail, it’s got to be a laugh.
I’ve washed and ironed it: I’ll wear it tomorrow morn.
On Rossington market, there’s such fascinating things.
There’s carpets, potatoes and fancy reels of cotton
And in the olden days, was visited by queens and kings.
No royal coaches today, though, only a common old bike with Dot on.
There’s cabbages, pickles, pictures and frames,
Cards, toys, sweets and all things to wear
And you know nearly everyone by their names
Because they’re there, week in, week out, year after year.
People come from miles away to buy coloured toilet rolls,
Books, cheese and eggs, and pots and pans
Shoes, materials and stuff to mend holes
Then tea and bacon and tomato butties in one of the caravans.
So take some time off and have a look on every stall.
They’re there in all weathers, rain snow and hail.
You’ll gaze in wonder and be mesmerised by it all
Like I was with my shirt, and Joyce on my tail.