During the war the British Legion branch in Rushden sent out newsletters to all the members who were serving. It was sent three times a year, with a small gift by Postal Order, and a nostalgic rhyme composed especially by Reg Norman.
The secretary at that time was E. Bennett of 7 Co-operative Row.

Yuletide Greetings!

JUST a flimsy scrap of paper
Is this small P.O. of blue;
No fine Christmas card embellished
With a dazzling rainbow hue,
No bright pictures of fat robins
Perched on sprigs of mistletoe,
Or of squads of carol singers
Standing knee-deep in the snow.

But to Rushden folk who're serving
In the Forces, it portrays
Pictures of the dear old Home Town,
Memories of bygone days,
Views of Gas-house Lane by moonlight,
High Street on Feast Sunday night,
Duck Street's graceful architecture
Pass before your mental sight.

Though with you the festive Yuletide
In the flesh we cannot share,
You can bet your bottom dollar
In the spirit we'll be there;
And on Christmas Day we'll toast you:
"Here's to Victory in the fight,
And our hearty Christmas Greetings
To each serving Rushdenite."

Easter Greetings!

Four years ago you Rushden men
And women who to-day
Have donned the Country's uniforms
To keep the foe at bay
Trod old, familiar thoroughfares,
Pursued your livelihood,
And as the clock went ticking on
You found that life was good.

You "clicked" and "closed" and "stitched" and "slugged,"
You tapped typewriter keys,
You sliced up bacon, weighed out lard,
And juggled eggs with ease.
You posted ledgers, papered walls,
Delivered joints of meat,
Sold cock-eyed hats to local belles—
"Yes, Madam, that looks sweet."

And whilst from Hometown Harbour all
You Rushdenites have sailed,
And given willing service to
The needs that war entailed,
The folks at home remember, though
You're scattered far and wide,
And send their hearty greetings with
An "egg" for Eastertide.

Holiday Greetings

Once more we folk in Rushden Town
Will take our holidays at home:
Again we'll shelve the pleasures of
The golden sand, the salty foam.

But if the Weather Clerk is kind
We’ll quiet relaxation seek
Within the grounds of Rushden Hall,
Our rendezvous for August Week.

We'll listen to harmonic strains
Of bands, beneath the shady trees,
Exchanging bits of, news about
You boys at home and overseas.

We'll talk of peaceful days ahead,
And plan for happier times in store
When you can share our holidays
Upon some crowded, wave-beat shore.

And when we do, we'll make-up for
The separations, sirens, bombs—
And drench ourselves in ozone, waves,
And coloured lights on flood-lit proms.

But, in the meantime, Rushden folk
Unite in sending Greetings warm,
Together with this gift to all
Their boys and girls in uniform.

Yuletide Greetings!

A CROSS the naked English Countryside,
By Irish Lake and Scottish ben and brae
On India's tropic strand, and Afric's shore
(Where ripe bananas and tall palm trees sway),
Midst marvellous Sicilian orange groves,
In convoy o'er the hissing, swirling foam,
Two thousand Rushdenites this Christmastide
Are thinking of familiar scenes at home.

They see the town bands out on Christmas Day,
Hear strains of "Wenceslas" and "Poor Old Joe";
They see the football ground on Boxing Day,
The hectic game with "foes" from Hock-and-Dough;
They picture Yuletide dances at the Mill,
And moonlit scenes around the bridge called Skew;
The graceful snow-draped landscapes "up the Rock",
And sunsets over "Maggie's" Avenue.

But whilst our "boys" and "girls" are far away,
Engaged in willing service for the Crown,
Although they can't be with us in the flesh
In spirit they're at home in Rushden town,
And local folk, wholeheartedly unite
In sending them a wish that's ever new—
A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND A BRIGHT NEW YEAR
TO RUSHDENITES IN KHAKI AND IN BLUE.

Yuletide Greetings!

With Christmas round the corner once again
The thoughts of every one of us at home
Are centred on you serving girls and men
In many lands, and on the swirling foam.

We think of you who're based within these shores;
Who swiftly wing along the astral way,
And seamen braving perils of the deep
To guard our ocean-lanes by night and day.

We think of you now serving overseas,
Who fight a winning battle with the Huns,
Whose daily round is wet and cold and mud,
And ceaseless roar and rumble of the guns.

And vividly we picture Far East troops
Campaigning there with nature in the raw,
And fighting hard to show the cunning Japs
They cannot 'get away' with jungle law.

And specially our thoughts go out to you
Who now your service uniforms have shed—
To whom your present battle-ground extends
No farther than the corners of your bed.

Where white-capped martinets with friendly smiles
Bestow their skill upon you without stint,
Where life just now is but a painful round
Of bandages, of probes, gauze drains and lint.

And with such scenes before our mental gaze
Old Rushden's Yuletide Greetings come to you,
The absent sons and daughters of our town
In khaki and two famous shades of blue.

Easter Greetings

SIX long years since peace-time Easter:
Warm Spring days, when, fancy-free
You could turn your thoughts to planning
Holidays beside the sea.
Days when life was mainly bounded
By the smell of calf and bend
And the problem in the evening
Whither should your footsteps wend.

Then as man and woman power
Mobilised to meet the Hun
You said au revoir to leather
Till your job of work was done
One-sixth of our population
In five years have joined the ranks,
Swapping lasts and bumper presses
For a range of planes and tanks.

Thus the menace to the freedom
Of our land has passed away,
And with thankful hearts we're waiting
For the coming Victory Day
And the time you men and women
Leave the service of the Crown
And take up your place amongst us,
Here in good old Rushden Town.

In the meantime, whilst you're scattered
O'er this planet far and wide
Folks at home are thinking of you
At this brighter Eastertide.
With this little "egg" they tender
Once again their greetings warm
To each local "son" and "daughter"
In the country's uniform.