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Mother by Bob Freeman

We sang funny songs and had great fun,
Run rabbit, run rabbit, run — run —run;
Played with our gas masks — eat bread and jam,
Sometimes we even had thin sliced spam.

At seven years old we never saw,
The troubles and heartaches of ‘our Mother’s War’,
The trip to the shelters — as sirens wailed,
Became quite fun as war prevailed.

We missed our Dad, but loved our Mum,
We’re often hungry — hadn’t a crumb;
But often seemed happy, and busy, and sang,
The meatless dishes had their own tang.

The Mickey Mouse gas mask gave us a laugh,
Eggs were in tins — that seemed pretty daft;
Condensed orange juice for a green ration book,
Fats, bread and cornflakes — coupons they took.

Mum listened to news on her cat’s whisker set,
Queued at the Butchers and Bakers — and yet;
Found time to comfort, feed and cheer,
Five small mouths and banish our fear.

Granddad promoted — wore a tin hat,
Marched round the streets in the dark — like a cat;
Reborn — with power — he hadn’t a care,
‘Get that bloody light out’ — Yes, you over there.

The Blitz and the bombing, the V ones and two,
On Sunday the Church had a shortage of pews;
Mum prayed for deliverance of children and spouse,
In the hope that the rockets would miss ‘our house’.

Mixed feelings abound as we recall the years,
Happiness — tragedy — hardship — and tears;
Of the one thing I’m certain — without any other,
The war was won — thanks to MY MOTHER.

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