In Grannie’s Kitchen

(Belfast, 8 August 1971)

I like it here in Grannie’s Kitchen

Grannie’s made a cake

It’s really nice and squishy

Can’t wait to have a taste

Grannie's Kitchen for Blog

Unlike Grannie, I don’t like tea

I’ll have orange juice instead

And if there is no orange juice

I’ll have some Lemonade


I like being here in Grannie’s kitchen

It’s smells are very nice

It’s always nice and clean in here

It’s floors are smooth as ice


I can keep my socks on here

And skid and skate and skyte

I’d like to live in Grannies house

And if I’m good I might


I like it here at Grannie’s table

There’s always nice things on

Like Fairy cakes

And Apple Pies

And tatties

And some scones

Apple Pie in Grannie's Kitchen

And sometimes we get porridge too

But only in the morning

And other kind of other things

It’s never ever boring


We also play on Grannie’s table


And snap

And Snakes and Ladders

And One Man Out

And The Minister’s Old Cat


Tiddly Winks

Grannie tells us stories

Of days that have gone by

Like about The Queen

Of Engaland (sic)

Who lately had just died


She ran off to the Proddy Church

To see the fine parade

She thought she’d see her coffin there

And thought she’d gone too late

Queen Elizabeth's Coffin

Silly her; of course that’s daft

The Queen’s not really here

But in her innocence, she said herself

She’d only just turned eight


Another story Grannie tells

Is the one about her brother

Working down The Belfast Docks

In the middle of the Summer


The boys worked hard

And played a lot

It really was such fun

Until his pal

A Proddy Man

Tipped him off about The Gun

Belfast Dockers on Boat

It was there he’d heard a rumour

In his old Big Blue Boys Club

That Peter Doyle

The Catholic Boy

That one from off The Falls

Was marked that day

They all did say

His number’s near damn up


He’ll have to go

And go today!

No time to tell his Mother

He must go now. On this fine day.

Or never see another


On The Boat to Liverpool

Then across the Atlantic Sea

Arriving to America

With no one else but He

On he went to lackys work

And soon eventually

He got a job

Down with the Mob

In the Auto Industry

General Motors 1918

She cried for him

Great Uncle Peter

Grannie’s only brother

Not knowing of his whereabouts

Was torturing his Mother

And finally, a letter!

A good waged job had he

Please tell my Ma’

I’ve kept The Faith

And now finally I’m free


Many long years passed

As Grannie reared her young

And one day in mid-winter

He asked her would she come

She got herself a ticket

And sailed the choppy seas

And finally arrived

In America!

And, for Liberty,

She cried


A month she spent there with him

Four weeks to reminisce

She met his wife

And daughter

And saw his happy bliss


But all too soon, she had to go

The old home horns were burning

And waving from the middle deck

Her stomach was a-churning


Her brother; and her only kin

Her blessed lovely soul

Good luck; Godspeed

And keep The Faith

But never come back home

Boat On A Postcard

Then Grannie wipes away tear

And turns to lemonade

She makes it all herself, you see

And all of it’s homemade


She squeezes in real lemons now

I watch, and stand up tall

She pours it through a strainer

And it trickles down the wall


She says we’ll have it later

As she opens up the pantry

I’ll put it in the fridge for now

And keep it where it’s handy


Now on you go, go out to play

Some skipping and tag-tig

And running in the garden

But watch out for the twigs

Homemade Lemonade