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Poem
Make Do and Mend,

Years ago we had jobs
We had fun and money in our pocket
Things were much better then
Once you could go out the door
And never ever lock it

But still so many struggled
To buy food and pay the rent
There were a lot of big families
And money was soon spent
We’d borrow from our neighbours
There were no pound shops back then
Or super savers

People used to keep pigs 
And chickens in the back yard
Cooked real meals made cakes
And baked their own bread
Because times were so hard
We’d often eat bread and jam
Beef dripping
And cooked with Lard

Growing your own Veg in an allotment
Or your garden
Radishes made you belch
Sprouts made wind I beg your pardon

Basin haircuts to save a few bob
Acorn coffee or Dandelion tea
Powdered egg from the Co Op
During the war
You couldn't get such luxuries anymore
Unless it was from American soldiers

Things like silk stockings
Were as rare as chicken teeth
And cow eggs
So Ladies used gravy browning 
And drew a line up the back of their legs
To make our shoes last longer
We'd have seggs
And a bit of board made a sledge

If you think people didn't have sex back then
Let me tell you, friend
With so many off to war
you may never see them again
War babies where did they come from?

Scraps with chips
Salt and vinegar on your lips
Afterwards, you'd use the newspaper
Toilet roll was a luxury
We saved a bit

A stick of Rhubarb a bag of sugar
Twig that you could chew
And some wildflowers for your Mother

We’d do a thing called make do and mend
Sew socks or darning as it was called
Back then
A hole in your trousers where your flesh peeped through
We’d sew a patch over the hole
And make do and mend
There was a dressmaker in almost every street
Who'd sew the patch on for you and take up your hem

If an arm of our glasses broke
we didn't throw them away
We'd stick a cloth plaster over to hold it together
It didn't look too good
But then they were ok

People would make up bicycles from old ones off the tip
A bit of cardboard in your shoe
Or a sock in the toe end
To stop your toes coming through

The Rag and Bone man
With his horse and cart
You couldn't tell him
And Steptoe apart

The old tin bath by the fireside
Ready for your Dad when he came home from work
From the steelworks or the pit
We had coal fires and in the winter we’d
Gather around making toast on a toasting fork
And keep the fires lit
With logs and tree branches from the wood
It would save a bit

A lot of the less fortunate ones relied on second hand
A shirt from someone who just died
Table from aunt Mabel
Sideboard from next door
Open draw for a cradle

We also wear our siblings hand me downs
I’d have to wear my sisters
So embarrassed when I went to school
And walking through town

Tea warmers on our Brown Betty teapots
A half-full biscuit tin
Dirty finger marks
Clues to where us kids had been

The local pawn shop did a brisk trade
Clothes wore on Sunday
Taken back on Monday

People had things on the slate
Pay a little each week when we could
We’d hide when the rent man came 
And be behind and he’d be after our blood

The pictures and old movies
Provided an escape
From the war and troubles back home
The Cinemas were prolific back then and packed
You were never alone

We made our own entertainment
Had street parties on the pavement

Make our own plays
Go for long walks together
Play cards dominoes and Ludo
Whenever there was bad weather
Listen to the Wireless set 
In our Jim Jams
With our milk Horlicks or Olavltine
After a wash our hair still wet

We made dolls from rags
Our own cards for Mums and Dads 
Knitted and sewed
Play with Lego and Mecharno

We never sterilised things for babies like they do today
Kids would put muck in their mouth
And we’d just let them play
A teat on an old bottle
You were away
Now Mums have to take the kids 
To the Doctors every day

Yes many struggled back then
But people seemed more happier 
And not so stressed
Hard workers 
When British Steel was the best

People tended to have morals and be ethically minded
Not being money blinded
We had positive role models
Something to look forward too
And lots of things to do

They call things today progress
But all it is
Is a great big mess
Too many knots to untie
We may not be able to change the world
But the small world around us if we try

People used to pull together
And give a helping hand
But now all that seems gone
And I no longer understand

‘’I may be old fashioned
But I’m damn proud to be old fashioned
And my roots

''And Doc Martin boots.’’




Peter Dome©2019.
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