Children, dear children, come home
with me now, The clock in the steeple strikes one . . .
For generations, the sidewalks in front of saloons in Britain's industrial districts have been thronged with children playing melancholy hopscotch while parents, too poor for baby sitters, downed a pint or two behind the swinging doors. (" 'Ere, luv, you play outside 'ere, there's a good girl. Dads and me'll be out in a shake.") In recent years, some enterprising pub keepers have provided waiting rooms to keep the kids out of the cold, but even these fail to make waiting for Mum and Dads...
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