Polishing
Author: Martin Power
Melody: The Garden Where the Praties Grow.

Polishing
Author: Martin Power
Melody: The Garden Where the Praties Grow.

Two sheets of old newspaper he would lay upon the floor,
Then all the shoes he'd gather from the corner by the door
And out would come the biscuit tin from underneath the sink,
With the radio on and in his chair, the ritual would begin.

He would first take out the laces and check the shoes for wear,
He'd check the soles for any cracks, and the stitching for a tear,
Then he'd tuck the laces inside the shoe for fear they get mixed up
And he'd place them down from left to right, from the smallest right on up.

He would pop the lid from the biscuit tin, take the contents from within,
He would spread them out beside him in order to begin;
A welt brush and a soft brush, some cloths for wiping down,
Two tins of KIWI polish, one of black and one of brown.

He might turn up the radio to hear the evening news
And, starting with the smallest, he'd begin the clean the shoes;
A good, stiff rub with welt brush to remove the dirt and dust
And, if you want the polish to take, this process is a must.

Then he'd wrap two fingers in a cloth and wipe some polish from the tin
And round and round all o'er the shoe he'd rub the polish in,
Making sure he got the polish deep inside the pores,
Then he'd place them down for half an hour to dry upon the floor.

Now, when they dried he'd take them and wipe the shoes again
To remove the excess polish before the buffing could begin;
He would always use a horsehair brush for bringing up the shine
As back and forth he'd strike the shoe like a pendulum keeping time.

And when the shoes were shining and all had been relaced
He would sit back in the armchair with a smile upon his face,
And then he'd say 'if the great flood comes and the Lord decrees we die
At least when we get to Heaven our feet, they will be dry'.

The Saturday night ritual of shoe polishing is described in detail in this memory of a family weekly event.