DASHING AWAY
Dashing away with the smoothing iron,
she stole my heart away,
I remember singing when I was a child,
in a choir one day,
A silly song, what a thing to sing about
all those years ago,
All about doing the washing then hanging
it out to dry, just so.
It took the whole week of work, she is still
dashing away with her iron.
Today I was pressing shirts, from deep within
my memory I began to sing
That silly old song, but my iron was electric,
I’m glad for this modern thing.
For I remember dashing away with the
red hot iron of years ago,
And if you have to iron lots of shirts,
modern is the only way to go.

M Ann Margetson January 14, 2002
2002/1786dashing/ pot