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This story was submitted to the people’s war website by Liz Goddard a ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ WM/CSV action desk volunteer on behalf of mr Errol Johnson.He has given his permission and understands the site’s terms and conditions.

I wrote this poem when I worked in a grocers shop in Chellaston this was after my spell in the armed forces.

Rations

Just one ounce of fat its no more than that
And only four ounces of marg.
With three ounces of butter our british hearts tflutter
After all it is not very large.

Two ounces of smoked pig which is not very big
And two ounces of best Stilton cheese
It’s strong and it’s green the best ever seen
But it doesn’t half smell in a breeze

With meat for a shilling it’s not very thrilling
To discover that part of it’s bone
But theres one consolation , dried eggs for the nation
By way of American loan

Two ounces of tea between you and me
And milk just a quart from the cow
With sugar (what cheek) eight ounces a week
Makes not many drinks you’ll allow

One pound of jam sweet, each month for a treat
You’ll agree must be carefully used.
With points twenty eight what a tale to relate
Of the good things that must be refused.

On sweets just three ounces it’s junior that pounces
And potatoes are in short supply
Now bread runs to slices but despite rising prices
British morale is still high.

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