  In the days of great Grandmother People often worked each other When they sought a little light At the coming of the night, Or to bake their bread and meat As fire making was a feat Quite difficult and very slow. So oft without a light they'd go Instead of spending e'en an hour With flint and steel exerting power To make a little fiery spark Which would produce light in the dark. But in eighteen twenty-seven Some good man earned fame from Heaven By inventing a real match Which one needed but to scratch On its sulphur head so small |
|
