The cockerel crows, the hens are clucking away.
Now they've begun for another day.
Gyp is barking, out waiting to see
Us rushing out to greet him with glee.
In getting up, I put a liberty bodice on my chest.
Blue bloomers then cover the rest.
Black woolen stockings up to my thighs.
Calf length boots with long lace ties.
An embroidered pinafore protects my dress.
Plaited pigtails will finish the rest.
A stampede for breakfast. Must not be late.
when the school bell stops, we shall be at the gate.
Hymns are sung, and prayers are said.
Ten to our classroom we are led.
If not is done what is expected that you do,
a rap with the cane is awaiting you!
Throughout the day our lessons we learn.
Then for our music class we gladly turn.
At the piano, our teacher's bum waddles about, her lips set tight in a determined pout.

We sing away at the top of our voice.
"Who will buy the lavender" our favorite choice.
Then home to sit under the syringa tree.
 Eating Devon cut rounds and cream for tea.

In cities there are playgrounds few.
Country children have much to do.
Warm eggs to gather from the nests by me.
Lamps to fill, and globes to shine, by brother Reggie.

Wood to chop, vases to fill, and decorate rooms.
Then scamper until supper-time looms.
No fads are allowed: eat everything up!
Don't talk with your mouth full. Careful with cup.
We all get on quickly with the meal.
Father's presence a restraint we all feel.
Chastisement is something we often deserve.
Not from Mother, that is Father's preserve.

I view these days in wonder and thanks.
We grew up with respect and intelligence that ranks.
Far better than what is happening today..,
For it seems that our children have lost their way.

Story By: Emily May Horan copyright 2006
Story Location: Dulverton, Somerset