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Grace Russ

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Poets Corner

A Selection of Family Poetry on Nathanville

Also see Victorian Poetry - A selection of poems from the scrapbook of George Burgess of Victorian Newspapers Articles

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Grace Russ


Celery my friend – or so I’ve been told
Puts a `spring in your step’, and makes you `feel fine’
It matters not whether you are young or old
I’m nibbling at Celery all the time!

Now this is a theory I haven’t yet proved
But no doubt, one day I shall see.
When I sit reminiscing on foods I have loved
Just what Celery has done for me!

Grace Russ – 1969


At work I sit and wire away
With concentration and great gusto
Until the uproar dies away
And there’s Maggie, saying “Coffee-o”

A brief spell of silence soon ensues
Broken only by chatter and a laugh.
Then once more I sit and sire a fuse
And someone complains about the draught!

At dinnertime I nibble my apple and cheese
Then wash it down with a nice cup of tea
And wonder, shall I say, “Mr James, please”
“Can I leave at half past three?”

Grace Russ – 1969


“Thank you my dear, for all you have done”
“I want you to know IT IS appreciated”
So speaks our Foreman every Friday afternoon
Mr James doesn’t take us for granted

This is good psychology – this “pat on the back”
And makes us work all the harder
To earn our pay, and do our fair whack
In the job that helps fill our larder.

Oh! If only more men in this world today
Would use this psychology on women,
We’d all “pull our weight” and work hard for our pay
And our hearts ‘neath our breast would be singing.

Grace Russ – 1969


The sun is hot – the water is cool.
He looks for crabs in a small rock pool
Then digs in the sand with his bucket and spade
With a bit more cash – we could have stayed!

It’s my second holiday in eighteen years
So what the hell – forget the tears
My back is aching – my hip is red
One more night in a blanket bed.

Tonight we’ll `wash and change’ and go to the club
He’ll watch TV – I’ll sit in the pub.
Tomorrow I go home – my wages to earn
To enable us next year, again to return.

Grace Russ – 1969


This is the Saga of a poor Orpington lady
Deprived of my Aniseed Balls and suffering badly!
They told me in the shop at Orpington Station
That you are unable to keep up with demand for production
Of my favourite sweets – luverly Aniseed Balls.
They say that over-demand for these Balls is the cause;
That my be so, but to let an addict like me
Suffer from withdrawal symptoms is cruel you see.
So my dear Manufacturers down at Leytonstone
PLEASE take heed of me pleas, and my little moan
And get your staff working on those Aniseed Balls.
This will bring SO much pleasure to us Orpington souls.
We will soon gobble them up and thus bring you much profit,
As `top of the Balls’ chart – Aniseeds a HIT!

Whilst writing this tripe I would like to just add
That at Bognor Regis in September I shall be most sad
If Bond’s Aniseed Balls I am still unable to obtain
They had none last year, and this caused me great pain!
So PLEASE send your rep. Down to Bognor – Poste Haste;
I promise you – on my honour – his journey he’ll not waste.
The shops down there stock other sweets made by you
So why don’t they sell your Aniseed Balls too?
To sell other sweets, but not Balls, is a great crime.
With apologies for my outburst – and for wasting your time
I remain, a faithful Bond’s Aniseed Ball addict for ever,
And hope that to Orpington Station Shop you’ll SOON deliver!

Grace Russ – 1975


I wish I could write a little poem
That would make you laugh, like Pan Ayres.
I’ve tried to get my brain-box going
But nothing happens; well, who cares!

Yes it would be nice to be able to write like Pam,
To tell short stories like her in rhyme;
But in my mind there is a dam
That blocks my talents every time.

But if only I cold write like her
I’d tell of all the funny things that happen
And make you laugh till you shed a tear –
Your sides aching till you had to hold them.

Still, one day – if I practice hard –
Maybe I’ll get something down on paper,
Although I will never be a Bard
Telling you of my latest caper.

From now on I will practice twice a day
And try to discipline my thoughts,
Then perhaps one day you’ll hear me say
“EUREKA!” (Gosh! I need a dose of salts!!)

Grace Russ – August 1976


It was in Orpington Hospital we happened to meet;
`Phyllis Ryan from Gloucester’ – with the gert fat feet!
Yet cheerful she was, and with a smile on her face
She’d say, “I’d love another cup of tea, Grace”

She’d sit on her bed all hot and uncovered
Whilst we exchanged all the news and tit-bits we’d heard.
She’d sit there with her fan always blowing
Trying to avoid Mrs Mayhew’s crowing.

One day of prunes she was given too many
And although it was wicked it was really quite funny;
She had bedpans in stacks – piled up three high
And the nurses, when they passed, would all give a sigh!

The visitors, they all said, “Well, Well, Well!!”
And it even astounded poor Sister Bell
Who was heard to comment “It’ll be a year come next June
Before Phyllis Ryan can face another prune”.

Grace Russ – August 1976

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