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Poem

You might have heard the stories
Or maybe they’re just rumours
Of when my poor old granny
Lost her frilly bloomers

My granny she is old school
Hates waste of any kind
Repairs her clothes incessantly
With whatever she can find

When the lacky in her knickers
Lost all its stretchiness
She pondered for a while
And wondered what was best

Now granddad had some braces
That he no longer wore
Granny goes up to the bedroom
And she pinched ‘em from his drawer

She cuts up granddads braces
And stitching them by hand
On her bright red frilly bloomers
Puts an extra strong waist band

The next day while out shopping
She wore her favourite drawers
She visited the butchers
And several other stores

Though the ‘lastic was performing
The way she thought it would
The fabric of her bloomers
Wasn’t really all that good

Then as she packed her shopping
She was putting in the beans
When her favourite bright red knickers
Departed at the seams
Not being one to panic
She tried to be discreet
As her great big frilly bloomers
Landed gently on her feet

Stepping from her underwear
She didn’t make a fuss
Just picked up all her shopping bags
And went home on the bus

Of course she blamed my granddad
She said that he was wrong
To let her use his braces
Cos’ the ‘lastic was too strong

© John W Fenn  11-04-2009

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