It'll go wi a tug!
Mi Mam's cuttin listins,
Cos she's broddin a rug.
She's gotten her canvas
All ready on t'frame,
An mi Fatha's owd britches
Aren't awt lookin lame.
There's mi Aunt Sally's frock,
An mi Uncle Tom's vest,
An my short blue coit
At once wor mi best.
Ther's all sorts o' colours
An all sorts o' stuff
But, lookin at that pile,
There weant be enough.
Mi Mam knows were they're all
bahn ter bi put,
Wi'v all bin gean scissors
an orders ter cut!
Wi'v lumps on us fingers
wi cuttin them strips
If shoo esnt gor enough,
We'll ev all ed us chips.
Na, shoo's got broddin,
an pullin' em through -
All rahnd aatside es
ter bi navy blue.
When shoo gets ter t'middle
(that's t'coloured part)
Shoo gives me t'job
o sortin em aht.
It's gotten ter t'weekend
and t'rugs lukkin grand!
It's all working aht,
just as shoo'd planned.
Ther's a diamond in t'middle -
a lovely rich green -
It's ahr Mary's frock
(But Ah duan't think she's seen!)
It'll be ready fer Christmas,
Shoo'll see at it's done.
...but am sure she'll nivver shek it,
It must weigh a ton!
But it's a lovely new rug,
all med wi owd stuff -
when yer pot yer bare feet on it,
It feels just like fluff.
It's neat an it's pretty,
By Gum, Mam's no mug!
Shoo know's what shoo's doing
when shoo's broddin a rug.
Photo by Black Country Living Museum
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