  When you were a little girl And you went driving with Grandfather, If it rained, didn’t he braid up the horse’s tail Binding it round with a bright silver band, And fasten on the side curtains of the carriage And pull the rubber “boot” over the dashboard? And do you remember how the horse’s feet Went “Plop, plop,” in and out of the mud, And you felt the mist blow in on your face When you managed to peer out over the curtain? And didn’t you snuggle up close to Grandfather And hug the Fairy Tale book Which he was going to listen to When the rain stopped and you lunched Beside the road? To the cheese factory, and bring out The fresh cheese curd to you? Can’t you remember the taste, even now? And sometimes, when it stormed hard, and thundered And lightened, and the crashing made the horse Want to run, wouldn’t your Grandfather always say: “Steady there, now, boy! Steady, boy!” so gently, That neither you nor the horse were afraid after that Because Grandfather said everything was all right, And he knew. And wasn’t your Grandmother Waiting in the doorway, watching a bit anxiously, Until you turned into the yard? Mine was. |
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