Sam Taylor was born 5th Feb. 1915 at 5 Intended St, Cradley, the home of his maternal grandfather. He died 3rd January 2010, aged 94, an active member of the Cradley Then and Now group until just a few short weeks before his death, and a poet to the end.
He was well known locally for growing his own vegetables, walking from Fatherless Barn to High Town Ragged School every Sunday evening, although he did usually get a lift back up the hill, and writing poetry until well past his 92nd birthday. He was the winner of the Cradley Day Poetry Competition in October 2007 with his poem, Ode to Geoffrey our Local Tramp.
To retire from work you think will be all fun
You can walk down the garden, or sit in the sun,
You can get up in the morning in your own good time,
This is the life that will suit you fine.
You are now a free man to do as you please,
You can sit back on the porch and take your ease,
Little do you think a new chapter has begun,
And the jobs that you promised now want to be done.
You can throw away your diary it's a thing of the past,
As your home commitments will come thick and fast,
The things that you promised to do long ago
Are now all waiting and these you can no longer forego.
First there is painting and decorating this is a must
The shed to clear out and everything covered in dust.
The old garden gate that swung on one hinge
Can now be fixed and once again swing.
There is the fence to mend and a new coat of paint,
The wall to fix and the path to put straight
You become a regular visitor to B and Q
Looking for parts for jobs you must do.
You walk down the street, have a chat with old friends
You discuss the economy and how to make amends
But you cannot stay long as your time is all noted
You must get back to the job you have started.
To grow old gracefully is the pensioners dream
But somehow it's a struggle you are always in mid stream
Your aches and pains and imaginary fears
Perhaps caused by the job you did for so many years.
It's no use complaining of how old you feel
It comes with your pension, its part of the deal
So shake your feathers or you will soon go to pot
And just thank God for all you have got.
Sam Taylor, October 2006