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Suet pudding and Eccles cakes

Oh, what goodies Grandma makes.

No ready meals in the microwave,

Just wholesome food, for which we rave.

No boil in a bag, or defrost is needed,

We asked for apple pie- in fact, we pleaded!

Coming through the door the aroma is divine,

And there’s a pot of tea, but never any wine.

On Sundays she cooks beef or perhaps a leg of lamb.

In the week she makes pea soup with a hock of ham.

She’s plastered on the butter since I was at her knee,

How heart disease escapes her is a mystery to me!

It doesn’t seem to harm the generation she came from

Once a year she goes to Blackpool and strolls along the Prom.

Time to listen, she’s never in a mood,

It’s good at Grandma’s ‘cos she cooks real food.

Old fashioned values and home baked bread.

Followed by cocoa, taken up to bed.

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