They put us on on the veranda in the sun. It got quite hot out there. There were four of us and we started singing.
We sang: I’m behind a prison wall; The bed’s too hard and much too small; There’s no pyjamas here at all; Oh, Mother, what’ll I do now?
Always complimentary, Mary had to make it clear the food at Azalea is excellent, they weren’t complaining like George, just singing his song!
She wondered what pyjamas inmates would wear in prison and we agreed probably they’d wear their clothes night and day.
And you can be sure, even at 90 they were thinking of their Moms as they sang.