Our Auntie Maggie used to sit
In winters evening she would knit
No sooner was one garment done
She'd go and start another one
Selected from her knitting kit
She'd always have a candle lit
The gentle light it did emit
Was how it was when she was young
Our Auntie Maggie
Our Uncle Dave worked down the pit
He'd come home late covered in shit
There'd always be a warm bath run
Poor sod, he barely saw the Sun
She loved him so, the silly git
Our Auntie Maggie
HaHaHa, loved the story could see this played on a guitar to children, (minus one word of vulgarity) god rest your Auntie Maggie for this treasured read.
HaHaHa, loved the story could see this played on a guitar to children, (minus one word of vulgarity) god rest your Auntie Maggie for this treasured read.
Wonderful, Stevie Taite! Being a scientist what splendid imagination you have ! You've knitted a beautiful poem!
Its like one of those nice stories you tell a child with its playful rhyme until it comes to that most vulgar word
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brilliant Stevie, love it - so funny.