Mother`s cooking
I remember on Mondays
The first day of the week,
Fried leftovers from Sunday
They called it bubble and squeak.
We had sausages on Tuesdays
With gravy white and thick
Always hungry so I`d eat them
So on Tuesdays I was sick
Wednesday was another day
That mother would make do,
She`d take the all the bits she could find
And stick `em in a stew.
We had meat and veg on Thursday
Some scrag end or a pork chop,
On Fridays we had faggots an peas
From the corner shop,
We had fish and chips on Saturday,
Mother didn`t want any fuss
She ` would buy four three penny lots
Between the six of us.
Sunday was the best of all
Sundays I liked the most,
On Sundays we had a joint of meat
On Sundays we had roast.
At Christmas she made twelve puddings
A dropp of brandy a drip of rum
There was nobody upon God`s earth.
Who made Christmas puddings like my mum.
archie langford
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-s-cooking/
