Nanny Broadbent

Little Grandmother of Mystery

Nanny Broadbent, Winterbotton, Wrigley,

Dear little Grandmother of mystery,

The pages of time we'd like to turn back­--

See you as you were, check on the facts,

So much has been said and so much surmised,

If you could but hear, you might be surprised.

What were you like, Nanny? Gay or Demure?

The clinging vine type? Or always cock sure?

Your picture we've seen, And from what we can tell

You were nice looking, Presenting yourself well.

You were born in Saddleworth, so the records say,

Yet it seems that over in Oldham way

Is where we find you. What called you there?

When did you leave home and your parents care?

What were the times like when you fell in love?

Could taxes and license fees be far above

What you and your sweetheart could manage right then? Searches haven't discovered the time and when

You got the minister and tied the knot.

We'd like to know when that minister was caught.

With James Winterbottom, You did quite well;

Two boys and three girls, E're his farewell.

What took him from you? Did death come his way?

Could those be called glad years? Or wouldn't you say?

Then came another, James Wrigley, the one

Who tended a flower shop in Oldham.

Did he bring you posie s of fragrance rare

To pin at your bosom and tuck in your hair?

Making you promises with stars in your eyes?

Or did he masquerade under disguise?