Inspired by Grace Poole and dedicated to Margaret Surtees.
Nanna lived up Scotswood, a sister of eleven,
At her funeral they said that she was only one of seven,
But Nanna knew the names of every bairn that had been born,
The ones who lived, the ones who died, the ones we didn’t mourn,
And being second eldest sister when brothers went to army,
She quick became the caring cornerstone, loving sharp and hardy.
Nanna knew the ancient ways to get a bairn to sleep,
Coz she had lived through war, when a baby should not make a peep,
Her Mammy was a widow, had to work until she hurt,
Nanna was accustomed to graft and grit and dirt,
Caring was a thing you did to feed a hungry crowd,
Nanna never knew to tell her daughter she was proud.
Every generation after Nanna worked in care,
Support workers, nurses, all attempts at femme repair,
Nanna taught resilience, held her grit until her death,
Loving sharp and hardy, until her dying breath.
Here’s to little girls round here forced into expectation,
Learning to care with Grace, through each new generation.