Mothers Weekly Magazine
Mother had
weekly magazine, knitting patterns every week,
These she used
to knit up the fronts, of our jumpers so to speak,
Some were cable
some were ribbed, some were chequered squares,
Some were
bobbles in a lump, couldn't buy anything that compares.
The wool she
bought was in skeins, a dozen at a time,
This she got us
to hold while she wound into balls like twine,
We held our
hands out at full stretch, while she wound full tilt,
Arms would ache
on the second one, then our arms would wilt.
Brother next in
line was asked, turns we had to take,
Wool was grey,
or fawn, or blue, for what she’d got to make,
Socks she knit
one every night, jumpers took over a week,
Stitch the front
and back together, sleeves to the arm holes tweak.
Started with the
welt, the grippe bit round the waist,
Tested it on the
one who it’s for, half way round our hips she placed,
On up to the
armpits, try it for length again,
Then the neck
onto the shoulder, it was a blooming pain.
Next the socks
they’re mostly grey, started top welt round,
These were
pulled up to our knee, and turned the top bit down,
Knit on down to
the heel, measured it on our legs,
Three needles
used on this job, pulled them on like stuck out pegs.
Heels we always
wore out first, so in with the wool she knit,
Strong button
thread along side the wool, in pattern this wasn’t writ,
So when they did
get bare and thin, she darned them time agen,
Then they were
called our working socks, for us working men.
Sometimes when
jumpers, got wore out up the front,
She would unpick
the seams, and rewind a whole segment,
Then would knit
again, into little gloves or woolly hat,
In winter
balaclava, or scarves on many things she’d tat.
When we were
young she’d knit and knit, no woollies bought at all,
As we left home
she knit again, next generation when they were small,
Knit up to her
seventies, when finger would not flex no more,
Big blow it was,
she knit by feel, for old age yet, there is no cure.
Owd Fred