Grandma and grandpa need an iron,
they’re such a wrinkly pair.
I am sure they weren’t that crumpled,
the last time I was there.
Grandpa is bold and grandma is grey,
grandpa, says grandma has chased his hair away,
grandpa has no teeth, grandma has a few,
grandpa can wiggle his false teeth,
When he looks at you.
Grandpa can’t remember,
a lot of things that are said.
So, grandma has to shout,
to get it into his head,
I love them both, their very kind to me,
I wouldn’t like to be with out,
grandpa and grandma you see.
Grandpa grows veg, in his vegetable patch,
grandma can freeze it, to make it last.
Grandpa, says grandma cooks such lovely grub,
grandma says to grandpa lets eat,
then go down to the pub.
Grandpa has a pint,
grandma has a sherry.
After a few grandma gets quite merry,
they talk about the olden days,
and the things they used to do.
That was before I was born,
and before my Mum was born too,
There was home made ginger beer,
not like what you get now.
In those days, they said,
it was taster some how.
There were coal men with horses,
rag and bone men too.
Coming down their road,
shouting things to you.
The children were playing ball,
playing cow boys and Indians,
or just sitting on a wall.
They made their own entertainment,
there was much more laughter too,
I love to listen about the things,
grandpa and grandma used to do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem