Jams and berries, they were plenty,
heads of cabbage by the score,
socks and mitts were plenty knit,
and hooked mats on every floor.
There was never a child gone hungry,
we ate whatever was cooked.
No T.V. to watch at night,
but there was plenty of time for books.

Many a song and story were told,
around mom's and daddy's lap.
Watching the fire in the comfort stove,
while waiting to light the lamp.
In the winter time it was oh so great
to look forward to that ride,
not like the fast ski-doos today
but with huskies and the slide.

Yes, them days were the best of all,
I could go on for quite a while,
but still they are good memories
cause its sure great to be a child.
My dad has passed away since then
but life it must go on,
and I am more than happy
to have my dear old mom.

Now my friends I have to end,
As I'm running out of rhyme,
God bless you each and everyone,
Cause what's flying here is time.
I want to make it fourteen,
So this poem we won't forget,
It's referring to our stamps you know,
And we still have eight more yet to get.