I love the poem about Granny’s button box so I thought I would try and do a card all about it for my mum’s Mother’s day. I have read a couple of slightly different variations to this and I have altered some of the spelling to how I think it should be (but I am not an expert in the Scott’s language). It reminds me of all the times I have gone through mum’s old recipe books and button box with her and we would reminisce over the contents. It is funny how just a simple button can evoke memories. I remember some of the outfits mum made for me, some I loved and some not so much but I know just how much hard work and love went into making each item. Thank you mum.
For the card I used a Lippy chick Flip book and decorated all of the pages with sewing related stuff. I didn’t really intend it to be quite that brown but I do like the vintage feel that colour gives it. Some of the green colour didn’t really show up due to my poor photography skills.
Inks: Distress inks; Tea dye, Old paper, Worn lipstick and Antique Linen, Versafine Archival vintage Sepia, Memento Rhubarb stalk, Versamark with silver embossing powder, Anna Griffin Green
Card: Ivory card, Flip book, Tag Image from Heritage papers
Stamps: Eline Pellinknot Cross-stitch stamps, Toodles and Binks Very vintage set 2 La couture, Stampin up Canvas background
Other: Buttons and thread, Antique brass charms, Studs, old pattern tissue, faux daisy trim
‘Granny’s Button Box’
by Joyce Averill
I maun sort oot this button box,
Noo gran his gone tae rest,
She’d niver throw even een awa,
Fae coat or suit or dress,
But pit them a in this old box,
For, losh, ye niver ken the day,
They’d come in handy for shewin on again.
Guid sakes, there maun be hunners here,
A colours, shape and size,
I’m sure they’re better thrown awa,
Keepin them wouldnae be wise.
They dinna match wi onything,
That we fowk wear the day,
Na, na, the scaffie’ll take them awa,
Nae matter fit ye say.
But wait a meenit, see this here!
This wis aff her wedding suit,
And this een here, I min fine,
Come aff ma buttoned boot.
My here’s the hook she used to cleek,
Each button into place,
While I sat there, a wee bit lass,
A soor look on ma face.
Noo this lot here, a tied wi string,
Wis aff ma velvet coat,
I couldnae hae been mair much than five,
Gan doon tae meet Da’s boat.
There wis a hat that gaed tae match,
Oh aye, I min that fine,
Jist fancy her hingin on tae them,
Aifter a this time.
See that bonny crystal een,
Fair glintin in the licht,
That wis a frock I wore till a waddin,
Fit a sicht!
A crepe de chine and frills and things,
And them a roon the neck,
Nae diamond iver shone as bricht,
As I did in the kirk.
She shew’d them on be gaslicht,
Each een pit on wi care,
Workin awa wi woven haunds,
Until her een were sair.
Noo this big black eens I ken fine,
Come aff Dad’s fishin breeks,
For he wis a deep sea fisherman,
I didnae see for weeks.
This rubber eens are aff his woollen dra’ers,
She knitted a the while,
The yarns a wool that she used up,
maun hae stretched fer monys a mile.
Here’s een come aff ma first dance frock,
That wis gey lang syne,
And look at this een aff ma gym slip,
Fan I wis only nine.
An army een aff ma tunic,
I wore fan in the war,
A jint tae dae ma little bit,
Tae bring the peace once more.
She grat the day I gaed awa,
And telt me tae tak care,
For I wis her only lassie,
And naebody loved me mair.
Here’s bits and bobs fae ma ane bairns claes,
She shew’d for them and a,
Knittin vests and socks tae keep them warm,
Fan the winter’s winds did blaw.
I can see there’s mair than buttons here,
But memories she loved to keep,
She left them a to me noo,
She’s gan tae her last sleep.
Fit! Throw them oot!
Na, na that’s mair than I can dae,
I’ll jist pit them in this button box,
That noo belangs tae me.
Fer I can see, that jist like Gran,
A hoarder I am tae,
Wi a box jist foo o memories,
I’ll keep till the day I dee.
