A poem that I have that reminded me of Grandma Lambert, she used to tell me about making underwear and dresses out of flour sacks.
When I was just a maiden fair
Mama made our underwear
With many kids and Dad's poor pay
We had no fancy lingerie.
Monograms and fancy stitches
Did not adorn our Sunday Britches;
Pantywaists that stood the test
Had "Gold Medal" on my breast.
No lace or ruffles to enhance
Just "Pride of bloomington" on my pants.
One pair of panties beat them all
For it had a scene I still recall.
Harvesters were glearning wheat
Right across my little seat
Rougher than a grizzly bear
Was my flour sack underwear.
Plain, not fancy and two feet wide
and toughr than a hippo's hide
All through depression each Jill and Jack
Wore the sturdy garb of flour sack.
Waste not, want not, we soon learned
That a penny saved is a penny earned.
There were curtains and tea towels, too.
And that is just to name a few.
But the best beyond compare
was my flour sack underwear!
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