Flour Sack Undies

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 that beat them all,
For it had a scene I still recall,

Harvesters were gleaning wheat
Right across my little seat.

Rougher than a grizzly bear,
Was my flour sack underwear!

Plain not fancy, and two feet wide
And tougher than a hippo's hide,

All thru the depression, each Jill and Jack
Wore the sturdy garb of 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's just to name a few

But the best beyond compare
Was my flour sack underwear.