Sweet memories gather round me,
In the summer time of year,
When I see the swaying meadows,
Blowing softly in the breeze,
Ourselves and often neighbours,
Would gather for the fray,
To gather in the harvest,
And the saving of the hay.

As we squatted there together
In the shade of some big wynd,
Having lifted out the hayseeds
Sure the tea was pure divine
There were sandwiches and apple tarts
And lots of homemade bread
Like the marriage feast of Cana
Until everyone was fed.

I remember my dear Mother,
In her apron spotted blue,
As we sipped the precious nectar,
From her lovely heart so true.
Then my father would give orders
The work it had to start,
She would gather up the ready fragments,
She had played her part.

They say heaven is for children,
Then it's there I long to go.
To party celebrations,
Meet the friends we used to know,
And when we are at the pictures,
Then I hope some one will show,
Those tea times in the Meadows
So many years ago.