The Working Week

by | Jan 1, 2006 | Poetry | 0 comments

Me Mam worked at Pearson and Dexter.
She despised it, and said that it vexed ‘er.
All week, it were bleachin’ and dyein’,
And foldin’, and creasin’ and dryin’.
And it made her eyes sting,
But she’d laugh and she’d sing,
‘cause laughin’ were better than cryin’.

Our Alice, she worked at John Players,
With her mate, who were called Gladys Sayers.
All week, they was cuttin’ and foldin’,
Them cigarettes with Virginia Gold in.
And it made their eyes run
But they made their own fun
With laughter they just couldn’t hold in.

Now me Dad. Well; he worked at Raleigh.
And he told me he found it “quite pally.”
All week, he’d build gears in an ‘ub,
On piecework, at so much a tub.
And it bored him to tears
But for thirty five years,
It bought his beer, and his fags, at the pub.

And me? Well they said I’d gone barmy,
‘Cause I signed for nine years in the Army.
All week it were, “Gerron parade!”
And Thursdays, “Line up ter get paid!”
And I loved those nine years,
Of Wiener Schnitzels and Biers.
And I loved it so much, that I stayed.


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