Friday, 10 October 2014

For My Brother

For My Brother

When we were young and full of fun
And all our days were carefree
Do you remember that September
We climbed the old pear tree?

The finest crop grows at the top,
That bramble jam we ate,
Our mother made and carefully laid
On shelves with name and date.

We took a stick and went to pick
The biggest blackest berries,
Pulling down to near the ground
Clusters hung like cherries.

Remember the gate where we used to wait
For the early morning light,
To show in the field the wonderful yield
Of mushrooms, gleaming white.

The nuts we found so full and round
And filberts too, so rare,
That lovely autumn on Sapperton Common,
What joy we used to share.

Wild harvest brings a host of things
Mushrooms, nuts and fruit,
But best of all, with every fall,
Comes memory, absolute.

Written by my Auntie Kath for my dad, recalling the early 1920s in Gloucestershire.


  1. Probably their childhood nickname or a locals' term in the 20s, I would imagine, Matt.