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Mem’ries o’ winters past.

Oh! I wish we had a fire,

Wi proper grate wi coil in

Yer’d lift yer skirt above the flames

An’ get yer buttocks boilin’

Yorkshire range wi taties in

An’ t’kettle allus steamin’,

Winter then were pretty fine

Or perraps I’m only dreamin’.

Crumpets on a toastin’ fork

Hangin’ over t’embers

Butter runnin’ darn thi chin

How many else remembers?

 

© Amanda Samm

See full poem in “Candle”