“Under the Weather”
By Winston Flavell
“Ar doe feel very well terday me wench, I’m gooin’ off ter bed!”
Me fayther rose from ‘is cheer, ‘is cheeks wun a raergin’ red.
There wor no spring in ‘is step, as he rayched the foot uv the stairs,
Mother bustled, an’ worried off inter the brewuss fer taypot and ‘prayers.’
Bedrooms wun code plaerces, even in the summer time,
They’d drafty sash winders and fireplaerces ‘owlin’ with a whine,
The o’de cast iron bedstead creaked wi every breath yoe took
Ice was inside the winder panes, and curtains flapped and shook.
From under th’ ‘eavy eiderdown, dad’s white faerce stared out,
Newspaerpers stuffed in the winder box day seem ter keep the code wind out,
“Oh I doh ‘arf want ter relieve meself just now! I’ve really goora goo!”
So under the bed dad peeped, “‘Ello.Theer yoe am! Pee-Po yoe!”
Some time laerter that saerme day, dad cum clumpin’ down the stairs,
Robed in eiderdown, ‘is faerce was hidden be’ind ‘is unshaved ‘airs,
“Sit theer, me mon,” said mom, poking the fire, and leavin’ the poker in,
Then, all of a sudden, the red poker was in the pint uv beer an’ fizzin!
“Ar cor goo ter the lav, me wench” Dad whispered ter mom a sobbin,’
“Me bowels aye moved fer days, an I’ve a yedache that’s a throbbin’,”
“Sit theer me mon, I’ll send our little ‘un out, up ter the shop,
Epsom Salts ull move yer, and then off ter the lav yo’ll pop!”
In the scullery was lovingly kept a little ‘doctors box,’ beside the sink,
It had ‘Little Liver Pills,” and a ‘Fever Cure’ that wud mek booth yer eyes blink!
A Blue magnesium jar, ‘Fynon Salts’ an’ a dark, sticky ‘Liquafruita’ bottle,
Umpteen little coloured pills, which yoe took, an’ they med yer bally rottle!!
Theer’s many a one whose bin “under the weather”
Searchin’ fer remedies, till at the end uv their tether,
It day really matter what ‘salts’ or ‘poultice’ yoe pressed,
Th’oldest cure of all, was a lot of love and care, it always worked the best!