Washing in Bygone days

Washing in Bygone days

Monday washday, early start;
Piles of washing, don’t lose heart.
No easy- care, no nylon then,
No anti-creasing way back when.
So we must get the water hot
No use proceeding if it’s not.

Under the copper the fire’s alight,
The water’s boiling – the wash is white
So in those days what do you do?
Of course, you add a bag of blue.
Huge wooden tongs to save your skin,
To help you plunge your washing in.

Heave out the heavy load-it’s hard,
Out to the mangle in the yard.
Crank the wheel, and one by one
Feed the sheets until it’s done
Don’t rush it, always be aware
Not to catch your fingers there.

The wicker basket full at last,
Down the garden to the mast
Peg it out and fly it high
Raise that pulley to the sky

Back in the day, a long-gone time
The washing’s flapping on the line,
Smelling of the sun and sea
So now for a well-earned cup of tea.