Our Auntie Maggie Poem by Stevie Taite

Our Auntie Maggie

Our Auntie Maggie used to sit
On winter evenings and she'd knit
No sooner was one garment done
She'd go and start another one
Selected from her knitting kit

Preferred to have a candle lit
Refused to hook up to the grid
Her eyes strained. Still she'd not succumb
Our Auntie Maggie

Our Uncle Dave worked down the pit
(That's mild irony, isn't it?)
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