A foundation can crack from weight it could not bear,
But you were Hessle Road rock, with a no bullshit stare.
Kestrel in your courage, Three Hammers in your name,
Big JG walked in and fear remembered shame.
They called you Three Can Jan, and some said it with dread,
Because you had that look that made hard men lower their head.
You didn’t need to shout much, your silence did enough,
A warning in your eyebrows when the world got too rough.
Skinhead and Doc Martens, you marched up to my school,
Other kids all whispering, like kids can be cruel.
But you stood there proud, no mask, no disguise,
I just saw my mum, fierce love in her eyes.
You were hard as old nails, with a temper like a brick,
The type to make a grown man suddenly feel sick.
Feared by most, and rightly so, you never played nice,
But if someone was yours, you’d pay any price.
You were loyal and ruthless, a dangerous mix,
The sort of woman who didn’t do politics.
If someone crossed a line, you didn’t ask them why,
You just turned up ready, with murder in your eye.
Even my own mates learnt that lesson the hard way,
When they tried to cross the line one stupid day.
With the mother of my kids, they pushed it too far,
And you came in swinging like a pissed off war.
No speech. No warning. No moral little chat.
Just Big JG arriving, and that was that.
They soon remembered manners, funny how they do,
When a hard woman like you comes battering through.
But that was you all over, rough hands, soft core,
A woman built from battle, still giving more.
You could scare half of Hull with one look from your face,
Then hold a grandchild gently, like they were glass in place.
Our world was chaos, no point dressing it neat,
With you out at Maggie’s, and me out on my feet.
I’d drag you from the gutter, a child playing strong,
Learning far too early when the grown ups got it wrong.
I carried things quietly, because what else could I do,
I loved you while I hated what drink did to you.
I knew the smell of cider, the stumble, the fall,
And still I’d have fought anyone who judged you at all.
Because they didn’t know you, not properly, not deep,
They didn’t see the woman underneath the nights with no sleep.
They saw the chaos, the mouth, the beer,
I saw the mum who kept me alive through fear.
You taught me strength wasn’t pretty or clean,
It was gritted teeth, sore knuckles, and making it mean.
It was standing your ground when your legs felt gone,
It was crack on regardless, keep moving along.
Hold your head up high, never let them see you cry,
Even when your chest feels ready to die.
That lesson stuck hard, probably too well,
Now I smile through fires and tell everyone I’m swell.
You gave me backbone, even when life was bent,
You gave me fight when the softness went.
You gave me a mouth that won’t always behave,
And a loyalty so deep it could follow to the grave.
Then you became Nana, and something in you changed,
Still mad as a box of frogs, just slightly rearranged.
You’d babysit my kids so I could go back to school,
Proving love can be rough and still beautiful.
You helped me rebuild when I didn’t have much,
No grand speech, just graft, lifts, tea, and touch.
You stood by my side when life had me pinned,
Like you were saying, go on lad, don’t you dare give in.
You were there for the kids, in your own mad way,
Nana with a warning and something sharp to say.
They got the softer version, but the steel was still there,
You loved like a guard dog, all teeth and care.
Cancer came quiet, then loud, then cruel,
And I hated watching life try make you small.
Because how do you shrink a woman built like you,
Who could frighten a pub and still make a brew?
But even then, you had that look in your eye,
Like death itself had better justify why.
You didn’t go gentle, you were never that type,
You’d have told the Grim Reaper his timing was shite.
I miss your madness, your mouth, your fight,
The way you made wrong feel scared of right.
I miss the woman who could ruin someone’s plan,
Then turn round smiling, Three Hammers Jan.
You weren’t perfect, and I won’t pretend,
Real love doesn’t need polishing at the end.
You were chaos and comfort, danger and home,
The hardest woman I’ve ever known.
And I know some memories still cut when they land,
A little boy dragging what he didn’t understand.
But I’d still choose you, with the mess and the pain,
Because through all of it, you loved me the same.
So this is for Big JG, my mum, my guide,
The woman with war in her walk and love she couldn’t hide.
Hessle Road rock, Kestrel strong, loyal and true,
The hardest woman alive, and I belonged to you.