An Angel With A Bakeboard She never left home without it, The bakeboard in her hand. She knew she would have to use it, As she traveled the road with Ann. We knew when Mother left the kitchen, It was a call where she would bake, as She packed a bucket of flour, and took From the old cellar some home made Butter, and war cake. Returning home one morning, we were Told of a birth, and death, in a home That saw pain, hunger and struggle, In a home she would never forget. That was the strength of mother, who Was at beck and call. An Angel with a Bakeboard, a faithful servant to all. 110