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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Sep 2021
Northern fare
You'll get windmill soup if it goes around or scotch mist on toast if it don't, Mother had lots of sayings like this.
But we were all well fed
even so
you could have seen more fat on a greasy chip.
none of that processed muck,
we tucked into meat and potato pies
carrots and greens, boiled and steamed
it always seemed to me to be
Christmas.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
67/Here and now
(67/Here and now)
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mister truth
and
Melanii
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