Unknown Author

[fenderbelly]

I'd like to give credit but it was sent to me with the author not named


I remember the cheese of my childhood,
and the bread that we cut with a knife,
When the children helped with the housework,
and the men went to work, not the wife.

The cheese never needed an ice chest,
and the bread was so crusty and hot,
The children were seldom unhappy
and the wife was content with her lot.

I remember the milk from the billy,
with the yummy cream on the top,
Our dinner came hot from the oven,
and not from the fridge in the shop.

The kids were a lot more contented,
they didn't need money for kicks,
Just a game with our mates in the paddock,
and sometimes the Saturday flicks.

I remember the shop on the corner,
where a pen'orth of lollies was sold
Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic,
or is it... I'm just getting old?

I remember when the loo was the dunny,
and the dunny-man came in the night,
Itwasn't the least bit funny
going out the back with no light.

The interesting items we perused,
from the newspapers cut into squares,
And hung on a peg in the outhouse,
it took little to keep us amused.

The clothes were boiled in the copper,
with plenty of rich foamy suds
But the ironing seemed never ending
as Mum pressed everyone'sduds

I remember the slap on my backside,
and the taste of soap if I swore
Anorexia and diets weren't heard of
and we hadn't much choice what we wore.

Do you think that bruised our ego?
or our initiative was destroyed
We ate what was put on the table
and I think life was better enjoyed.

[Stevenp]

I can relate to all that, and sometimes wonder what life holds for My grandkids.

[Chesand]

I can relate to all that, and sometimes wonder what life holds for My grandkids.

Me too.

I often think that if we had the best of those times and some of today's technology we might be in Utopia

[Mulgabill]

Yes Fred, Thanks to the author Anon. I also can relate and brought back memories of my early childhood up on the station where the front gate was 2 miles and the nearest town was 36 miles. The family and station-hands were pretty well self sufficient.

[Grumpy John]

For me, wiping my backside with the pink pages is not nostalgia. Neither was having to lug buckets of briquettes to heat the hot water for a bath with my younger brother in the concrete laundry trough. Emptying the briquette dust on a windy day wasn't much pleasure either.
Yes, I have some very fond memories of my childhood, but watching my mum bust her gut getting wet clothes out of the copper and putting them through a mangle is not one of them.