Rich Tea
You sat in a fireside armchair
Observing the world pass by.
I alighted the school bus,
You watched through the window.
My life was just beginning,
Yours was drawing to a close.
I went and filled the coal bucket,
My chore for the day.
You filled a willow-patterned cup
With milk, from a blue-striped jug.
I sat at the table by the window
With my milk, and three rich tea biscuits.
It was always three, never two or four;
I was never brave enough to ask for more!
Watching Derek Davis on Live at Three,
Or sometimes you read me stories,
Until, one day, you said,
I was big enough to read for myself.
It is thirty years since you died,
I was little more than a child.
Yet every time I see Willow pattern
Or Boland’s Rich Tea biscuits,
You always come to mind.
You sat in a fireside armchair
Observing the world pass by.
I alighted the school bus,
You watched through the window.
My life was just beginning,
Yours was drawing to a close.
I went and filled the coal bucket,
My chore for the day.
You filled a willow-patterned cup
With milk, from a blue-striped jug.
I sat at the table by the window
With my milk, and three rich tea biscuits.
It was always three, never two or four;
I was never brave enough to ask for more!
Watching Derek Davis on Live at Three,
Or sometimes you read me stories,
Until, one day, you said,
I was big enough to read for myself.
It is thirty years since you died,
I was little more than a child.
Yet every time I see Willow pattern
Or Boland’s Rich Tea biscuits,
You always come to mind.
