I remember the corned beef of my childhood,
And the bread that was cut with a knife,
When the children helped with the housework,
And the men when to work, not the wife.
The cheese never needed a fridge,
And the bread was so crusty and hot,
The children were seldom unhappy,
And the wife was content with her lot.
I remember milk from the bottle,
With the yummy cream on the top,
Our dinner came hot from the oven,
And not from a freezer or shop.
The kids were a lot more contented,
They didn’t need money for kicks,
Just a game with their friends in the road,
And sometimes the Saturday flicks.
I remember the shop on the corner,
Where biscuits for pennies were sold,
Do you think I’m a bit too nostalgic?
Or is it, I’m just getting old?
Bathing was done in a wash tub,
With plenty of rich foamy suds,
But the ironing seemed never ending,
As Mum pressed everyone’s ‘duds’.
I remember the slap on my backside,
And the taste of soap if I swore,
Anorexia and diets weren’t heard of,
And we hadn’t much choice what we wore.
Do you think that bruised our ego?
Or our initiative was destroyed?
We ate what was put on the table,
And I think life was better enjoyed.
Author, Unknown
Life on the Massanutten 