When the man of the house in the old days
either died or lost his job,
his dependents were put in the workhouse
or went thieving to make a few bob. 

The same thing happened to our Dad,
turned up drunk and got sacked from the Mill
but life didn't appeal in the workhouse.
separation was part of the drill
so instead we were took in by Granddad
Son Fred and his wife  Aunty Jill.

On arriving that day late at Grandpa's
Mum tearfully said through a frown,
it's going to be a bit of a squeeze 
in a tiny two up and two down 

This is no time for tears now dear Daughter,         
said her Dad on the dust covered floor,
when the Cockroaches saw you lot coming                       
they packed up and moved in next door.

There wasn't much room to begin with
especially time for bed, 
Mum and the girls shared with Aunty Jill. 
While I squeezed in between Grandpa, 
me Dad and sweaty feet Fred. 

Choking fog, diphtheria, 
curtains and beds...bug infested, 
complicate life even more-so,
on top of been born pigeon chested.

Everyone self-medicated 
with dubious potions to treat, 
dozens of different ailments 
in efforts to gain some relief,
from the perils of everyday problems
soothing the redness and pain
inflicted on us by our Teacher
with his long thick knobbly cane

One of the cures for example,
viewed now with some disbelief 
was a daily teaspoon of water 
in which Grandma had soaked her false teeth. 
The provenance supporting this treatment
with the passage of time is obscure 
but we think we now have the answer,
It's an immune supporting cure
only effective if carefully made  
from a God fearing, aged mature.

These days when we die, are much better, 
you're frozen till there's a day,
they find a cure for whatever. 
Killed and  made you that  way

Now if given that choice when I was a boy
I  would've been "put down" and froze,
to await better times like at Christmas.
for a motive quite odd you'd suppose. 
When we'd each and all get a large chicken leg,
instead of  the Parson's nose.