Burnt Toast

When we were young we respected our mum

She had a hard life although never glum,

We never complained about the burned toast

We learned to be thankful – to make the most

Of gifts we’d been given, food that was blessed

Appreciate our mother, simply the best.

She worked so hard, early morning till night

The last one upstairs to turn off the light,

Always washing, ironing, looking after us

For twenty- four seven without any fuss,

I never noticed as a small child

When I asked for money she looked and smiled.

I didn’t realise that was all that she had

That thruppenny piece I took as a lad,

I know now as she’s sitting right there

I put those silver threads in her hair,

So remember when mum hands you burnt toast

You’ve only one mother, make the most.