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When grandma was a blusing bride,
Way back in '62,
She'd never heard of atom bombs,
Still she had troubles, too.
When folks came for a visit --
They couldn't phone ahead,
And sometimes, too, they caught her,
Without a 'mite' of bread!
And then she'd have to hustle up
And bake some biscuits, -- hot,
They didn't then have "biscuit mix"
But hers sure touched the spot.
And if they hadn't butchered yet
She'd run a chicken down,
There wasn't any market near,
She lived ten miles from town!
She'd stuff the stove with wood and cobs
(She'd never heard of gas)
And while it heated she made haste
To pick some "garden sass"
Sometimes the 'company' would help,
they'd peel a mess od spuds
With Grandma's aprons covered o'er
To save their Sunday duds.
Then Grandma'd fetch up some preserves
And get out her best castors
And then she'd get her hob-nail vase
And fillit up with asters.
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She's spread a cloth of snowy white
She'd woven when a lass
And later, bleached so carefully
Upon the dewy grass.
Then, chairs and stools were hunted up
And each guest took his place
In silent reverence they'd sit
While Grandpa Brown said grace.
He thanked the Lord in Heaven above
For life, and food, and health,
And asked God's blessing on that home
Devoid of pomp and wealth.
They hadn't any luxuries---
They toiled and scrimped and prayed
And wth faith in their Creator
Faced the future, unafraid.
They made this land America
The place it is today,
The strong-hold of democracy,
Where liberty holds away.
And so -- let's try to emulate
The courage they displayed
And face the future bravely
Serene and undismayed.
--By Rae Danborn
B. P. W. Member
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