The Milk of Kindness...........

Sweet Maisie.

Milk didn’t come in bottles, when we were little boys,

So going to the dairy, was one of life’s true joys,

For if it were sweet Maisie, who served you out the measure,

The extra cup was yours to sup, a memory to treasure.

Kathleen only gave us, exactly what she should,

At times a little ‘tilly’, we always prayed she would,

The youngest of the sisters, I now forget her name,

Was quite as bad as Kathleen, and dished out just the same.

Old Tom, the three girls’ father, and the owner of the farm,

Never used the measure, to him it was the norm,

You see, he never had a son, and treated all us boys,

With lots of cream from off the top, and pence to buy small toys.

The level mark inside the can, that my mother scratched,

Had to be watched closely, to ensure that the milk matched,

For if you got too greedy - drank more than Maisie gave,

My Mum would note the difference, and fly into a rave.

But last time I was over there, the farm it is now gone,

New cottages and houses, the land is built upon,

Yet as I stood and looked around, I saw the corner stone,

Where I would drink, the extra milk, before I wandered home.

So God Bless you, Tom Costello, though sadly now not here,

And to his lovely daughters, to them I raise a cheer,

To Kathleen and the youngest, who sometimes drove me crazy,

I thank you all, for what you gave, but especially you Sweet Maisie.

------Mike--------