Berhampore Flats, fifties home to me,
you were my first real family.
Every sleep I had at night,
in the window shone your two bright lights.

Rainy days spent in your hall
nine flats’ kids having ourselves a ball.
Marathon runs around your grounds
until a champion was found.

Summer days spent on a whim
at the Te Aro baths having a swim.
A tram home in time for tea,
little Nancy Johnson looked after by me.

Sharyn Furniss’ speech not perfected
got teased when us kids detected.
Dianne and Gary Barrett, flat upstairs
hanging over the balcony, no fears.

Old ladies in your pensioner flats
giving handouts to us brats.
Grant Tilley sitting outside to paint
from laughing we’d nearly faint.

 Annette and Denise Bell,
taught us to dance really well.
So a concert for the residents
was one of our better incidents.

Murry being a mischievous boy
grounded, missing lots of fun and joy.

Only a few years did our lives entwine
yet memories have love, enshrined.





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