My hometown is the place Where I go back to roam Although I live away from my roots There's really no place like home, To meet the friends I grew up with And to talk about the old times To visit the old end I remember as a kid The dirty old streets, the grime.

They were the poor old days We were always skint We shared our pennies then, Yes, it's nice to remember the old days, When we were younger men.

Times have changed, some people say, For the good, that's hard to say, When I look back when I was young, And the things I enjoyed each day.

But there's one thing about leaving To a far off distant shore, It means that I can appreciate My home town even more.

Bob Lowe, Tenby.