Mary Morgan

Mary Morgan here and I live in Llanrhystud now.  I was born 80 years ago, down in Ammanford.  I lost my mother when I was three weeks old.  So, then I was sent down to my aunt down in Tryal in Llanrhystud.  I was like a gypsy, moving from place to place.I went to the primary school in Llangwyryfon, walking two and a half miles to school every day.  I didn't have hot dinners.  I carried a pack with me, bread and butter and jam.  No mention of sandwiches at that time.  I was very fond of going down to the shop to buy sweets and what I wanted was liquorice allsorts but I wouldn't ask for liquorice allsorts, you know what I'd ask for was 'little mice's droppings'.  I enjoyed having the liquorice allsorts, a penny's worth. Very often, the games I played at school "Ring a Ring o’Roses a packet full of doses", something "we all fall down" at the end.  And we played ball and caps – the boys at that time, they wore caps on their heads and then they'd set their caps by the hedge, and then we'd roll the ball along the ground and if it went into the cap we scored a goal.  That's how the game football was in those days.  Playing, of course, skipping, a long rope and two, one either end, turning the rope and someone, one or two people perhaps in the middle skipping with each other.  I played with a ball; I'd play with two balls next to the wall, or three very often. But I remember once, I was given a little row.  At playtime I liked to go to Dic the Blacksmith, and I shouldn't go there, and Dic the Blacksmith caught me and rubbed my face until it was black.  And you know how dirty hands are with old grease and they'd been shoeing horses and things.  I was filthy, I must say.  But I went back, and I went to the porch and I washed my face until it was reasonably clean.  And then Jâms came out and asked me where I'd been but I didn't get the cane.  And that was the end of that day.  Perhaps I was a favourite of his.  I don't know.[Verses] I walked for yearsHere to the little village's school.With Jâms the headmasterI got a good and proper education. I remember the old facesAnd all the craftsmen of the village.John and Edwin were in Penbont,Unusually gifted carpenters. I remember the boys of the Mill,Jo and Steven and Dai,And Mari rushingTo make old Shami's dinner.William was in Commercial Shop,Glyn his nephew very careful.There I'd go to get sweets,A penny's worth was more than enough.Here they are the faithful family,The giants of Seion and musicians.We, all the schoolchildren,Could say that these were superb boys.But I must not forgetDick the Blacksmith, an old friend of mine.I would go down to the forge to pester himAnd get a black face for doing so.My debt to the teachersThat were here in Llangwyryfon,And also to the Rev John EdwardsWho taught me about the culture.The Meeting is once again prosperingAnd the community bubbling,And the chapel door is openKeep at it people of Tabor.O this altar isSo dear to me, friends,Where I used to read a chapter,Where I used to recite a verse.Here still are my rootsHere still are a horde of friends,The memories are sweetOf my youth in Llangwyryfon. I was very fond of knitting, you know, and I was very fond of playing ball.  But anyway, I couldn't play ball or knit on a Sunday. I had to go to Tabor chapel. At night, there was no television, well there wasn't much radio, but anyway, I had a little gramophone.  And I was very fond of turning it on and playing my favourite songs.When I was a young girl, back during the War, there was a meeting to welcome the soldiers home.  They got three months leave after training to go to War and I would write little verses for them in Llangwyryfon and in Bethel, Trefenter and in Moriah, and in Llanrhystud.And here's a little verse for John Steadman:John Steadman is the soldierWho tonight is in our hearts.He is recognisedBy everyone in the area. John was a busy boyBefore he went to war,Working every dayAs a carpenter to help the country.But now he has goneTo serve his country,But he hasn't left his craftDespite the betrayal.He builds shipsAnd things for the War.Thank heavens there are boysLike him in dear Wales.