Hands that do dishes and everything else

Me mum never worked, A stay-at-home mum. And modern mums say: ‘It’s all right for some.’ No, Mum never worked, She walked to the shops. She waited with bags At rainy bus stops. She made up the fire, She made up the beds. We’d no ready meals — She made them instead. We didn’t have phones, Well, one down the street. And no television Or putting up feet. No washing machines; Gas copper was all. A mangle to squeeze The wet from it all. Me mum never worked,

She’d sweep out the rooms. We never had hoovers Just dustpans and brooms. She’d bake and she’d iron, She’d polish and dust, And any old problem Me mum had it sussed. She taught us

good manners, She let us have fun. A housemaid, a teacher, All rolled into one. And when all us children Got home after school We knew she’d be waiting, Sat there on her stool. With no central heating, One fire in the grate, And hot buttered

crumpets All piled on a plate. Me mum never worked But I have no doubt Through love and affection She tired herself out. A. B. Wyze, Rushden, Northants.