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Lets get really nostalgic now! Linda Sura Liza* lsura@pottsville.infi.net When I was very young, I lived with my grandparents on Hylan Blvd. Saturday mornings were cleaning day and my grandmother and mother would send my grandfather out along with me, my brother, and my great grandfather to get the groceries. The poor guy was busier than a one armed paper hanger as he wheeled the shopping cart around with two pre-schoolers inside and had to take care my great-grandfather, who, in the beginning stages of dementia, did not wander off or worse, go into his Charlie Chaplin routine.
My great grandfather, affectionately known as ge-pop, used to pin money inside his coat but he would swipe things off the shelves anyway. My grandfather would make him empty his pockets at the check out line.
My brother and I thought this was funny and squealed with laughter when we knew that "ge-pop" took something. To us, it was a game like hide and seek.
Anyway, after the goods were returned and the groceries bought, my grandfather would pile us all in the station wagon with the wood sides and drive home. On the way home, he would sing "Richmond County Jail" and we would all join in.
A bum a bum a jolly good bum, a bum I wanna be
A bum gets up in da mornin, ta have his afta-noon tea
At five a'clock in da mornin, Miss Murphy comes around
Wid a hunk a bread an butter dat weighs a half a pound
OHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Da kawfee's like tobacca juice
Da bread is hard n stale
An dats da way dey treat da bums in da
Richmond County Jail!



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