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)
