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