Gran’s great big iron Mangle

Granny had a mangle

It really was a beast

Squishy boiled bloated clothes

It’s very favourite feast

Monday’s saw the wash board down

And scrubbed the clothes were sent

From the huge great copper pot

One by one they went.

Clanking cogs as I turned the wheel

and the song of splurging squash.

Gran’s wooden tongs would feed the beast

Sometimes two more from the wash.

From steam the ceiling dripped like rain

Mists hanging foggy grey’s

But for me and Gran on Monday’s

Were such very special days.

We’d laugh at Granddad’s Jamas Going in they seemed to swell

And out the other side

in the basket each squishy  item fell

Gran struggled with the enamel bowl

It’s water splashed the floor

To journey to the sink

Time and time to gather more

Her twinkled smiling eyes

Would call me her little man But she will always ever be my dear old lovely Gran.

(Mike)