| Tell me about | |
| the trees I've grown to love; their leaves, their trunks, and canopies above; the oaks and ashes, lime and yew; those English giants once I knew from childhood days, such memories; the beauty of those splendid trees. |
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| Tell me about | |
| the wood I used when I was able to build a lounge room coffee table; the huon pine and blackwood smells from forests where all timber dwells. |
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| Tell me about | |
| the childhood friends I knew when small. What happened, I wonder, to them all? It sure is hard to tell if they remember me as well. But lots of memories linger on - party days and seaside trips - now gone. |
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| Tell me about | |
| those smells I've always known (I love them still though now full grown): strong coffee freshly ground; onions, fried and browned; new dug garden ground; smoky fires; fresh tarmacked roads; new-mown hay in piled up loads; squeaky carts and apple smells; Sunday morning's chiming bells; in baker's windows fresh baked bread; springy coils beneath my bed. |
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| Tell me about | |
| the market stalls along the street where barrow boys would smartly greet all shoppers with a lively patter while people gathered just to natter: "lotsa luvly spuds, buy a pound, roll up, just outta the ground, only the best, all ripe no rubbish, no tripe, come an' get 'em 'fore I sell 'em!" |
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| Tell me about | |
| those days gone by. | |
