Songs/poems our Mothers sang

Oh, Tizzy that brought back memories - of the aftermath of a Tupperware party, in army married quarters, would you believe? It had gone on, and on. Some of the older women nipped off to the pub, and came back later when the rest of us had hit the sherry. This was the 1970s, so we hadn't discovered the joys of wine.(Ex military wives- remember NAAFi "FOG")

The party developed from there, with one older woman slumped in a chair singing "The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen" and my friend and I doing a turn with "I wish I was..." With actions, I recall. OH dear. And the hostess's husband had come home and sat himself quietly in a corner and observed it all. And reported back with glee.

Sorry, folks, I digressed.

My mum, being a thespian, had a "number" that used to be called for when times were jolly. Assuming the correct stance for the character (hand on jutted hip) she would begin....

Oh I wish I was a fascinating b**
I'd never be poor, I'd always be rich......

I won't proceed, as the tenor of the thread is soft and gentle, and I'd hate to sully the content!!

By contrast, my Gran used to teach me hymns and my favourite was Gounod's Ave Maria.

I used to sing that to annoy my DH. We both hated it but were made to sing it every April in choir.

Thank you for that Zengran I didn't realise it was a hymn.

Even reading it through brings tears to my eyes.

NOT that I wanted to make you cry!!!!!!!!!!

Googled it, gillybob

All In An April Evening Hymn

All in the April morning,
April airs were abroad;
The sheep with their little lambs
Pass'd me by on the road.

The sheep with their little lambs
Pass'd me by on the road;
All in an April evening
I thought on the Lamb of God.

The lambs were weary, and crying
With a weak human cry;
I thought on the Lamb of God
Going meekly to die.

Up in the blue, blue mountains
Dewy pastures are sweet:
Rest for the little bodies,
Rest for the little feet.

Rest for the Lamb of God
Up on the hill-top green;
Only a cross of shame
Two stark crosses between.

All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
I saw the sheep with their lambs,
And thought on the Lamb of God.

When I was little I remember asking my mum to sing "The song that makes me cry about the little lambs" I do wish I could remember it now.

It started something like All in the April evening.... blah blah blah and then something like the sheep with their little lambs pass me by on the road

Does anyone know it? It never failed to make me blub !

Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on , Polly put the kettle on , we'll all have tea. Sukie take it off again, Sukie take it off again, Sukie take it off again they've all gone away. I love the idea of the kettle being called Mrs Sukie!

A poem my mum taught me, I have no idea of it's origin.

Dear mother has a headache,
She is resting for a while.
The kitchen looks so lonely without her happy smile.
The baby's face is dirty,
Untidy is the floor.
If Mother didn't live here we'd be quite lost, I am sure.
I've had my ten years birthday,
It's time I took a turn.
I'll put on Mother's apron and do my best to learn.
I'll polish up the fireplace,
The floor I'll clean and sweep
And then I'll wash the baby's face and coax her off to sleep.
I'll put on Mrs. Sukie and make the table nice
And then get ready for Mother the toast, a lovely slice.

(Mrs. Sukie is the kettle, apparently, I have never heard it called that anywhere else)

My Dad used to sing the first line of "Oh God, our help in ages past" when Mum was in one of her moods!

Joannapiano

Put a bit of treacle on my puddin' Mary Ann
Mary Ann, Mary Ann, Mary Ann
Cover it, smother it, don't you stop
Till you can't see the puddin' for the treacle on the top
I like puddin' when the puddin' is a good-un
And I don't want cake or jam
So put a bit of treacle on, treacle on, treacle on,
Treacle on my puddin' Mary Ann.

F W Leigh & Harry Champion

Harry Champion sang a lot about food... Boiled Beef and Carrots, A Little bit of Cucumber and the like... a huge star in his day.

My baby brother died when I was in my teens, it was in December and everyone was getting ready for Christmas. We tried to carry on as normally as possible for the sake of the younger siblings and so a few days later we were watching a film on the BBC. It was called Captain Courageous, and Spencer Tracey sang a song called, 'Don't cry little fish'. It broke through all our resolve and I thought I would never stop crying, my brothers and I howled for what seemed like hours. The song stuck in my mind, and along with 'Daisy, Daisy', I sang it as my children's lullaby. I thought all the song's associations with my brother's death had been resolved, but last year (44years after my brother's death) I visited a friend whose children were watching an old black and white film whilst we adults were talking in the kitchen - suddenly I heard the song and the rush of emotion I felt was extraordinary. It was the first time I'd heard the song since my brother's death and I burst into tears. Songs from childhood can be incredibly powerful.

Galen I am 52 and she used to sing it when I was about 10 I guess, I never really knew that she liked that song so much because she could relate to the story. Like others on here I have come to realise things about my Mum that have not really thought too much about before like how hard things were for her.

My Dad used to sing, No matter how young a prune may be ,It's always covered in wrinkles. We have wrinkles on our face, the prune has wrinkles in every place... There must be more but I don't remember it.

Sook we had a different ending to the tom cats. You don't pause between verses - the first word of the next line finishes the previous line.

Not last night but the night before
Two tom cats came knocking at the door.
I went downstairs to let them in
They knocked me down with a rolling pin.
The rolling pin was made of brass
Cut three slices off my

ask no questions, tell no lies
Ever seen a Chinaman doing up his

flies are a nuisance, bugs are worse
And that's the end of this Chinese verse.

So did we, Galen and Cathy. It was a great favourite at discos at the sports club we all went to near the school where we taught in Kenya. Shows what a wide age range we have, doesn't it?

Cathy we sang that when I was in my twenties!

Seems I was right about the tom cats not being of the fur and purr variety. Tom cat is slang for a sexually active male, or for a man to prowl around searching for sex ( tom catting). Trust my mother

Gagagran have you remembered what you went upstairs for

Has anyone ever heard this fragment. Husband's mother used to sing it

Adelina Brown
The belle of Chinatown
Earning lots of dollars
Ironing shirts and collars....

And she didn't know any more...

Here's another version that my mum told us

Not last night but the night before
Three wee witches (or monkeys) came to the door
One with a fiddle and one with a drum
And one with a pancake stuck to her thumb (or bum).

Thanks Gagagran I've not heard your version before. I'm enjoying this. I wonder from where and when the verses originate?

I remember my Mum used to sing--- Those were the days my friend---
by Mary Hopkins

Sook my version is:

You know last night
Well the night before
Two tom-cats came knocking at the door
One had a fiddle and one had a drum
And one had a pancake stuck on his bum

Another one we liked as children was:

One fine day in the middle of the night
Two dead men got up to fight
Back to back they faced each other
Drew their swords and shot each other

Why can I remember these rhymes when I can't remember what I went upstairs for!

feetlebaum, Elegran and nanaej isn't it funny how we all have our own version of the song. Apart from my mum I have never heard anyone else sing it.

She had another rhyme you may have heard

Not last night, but the night before,

Two tom cats came knocking on our door,

I went downstairs to let them in and they knocked me down with a rolling pin,

The rolling pin was made of brass and they knocked me down flat on my a**e

I'm sure the tom cats weren't of the fur and purr variety

My mum used to sing' Blue Moon' accompanied by my dad on the piano.
Every time I hear it now I think of her.
My grandad used to sing 'Put a bit of treacle on your pudding Mary Ann' a song with quite suggestive lyrics.(In a strong Cockney accent ).