By Betty Norton, Bamber Bridge
When we had Harvest Festival, so many years ago,
we’d only seen the golden fields in story books you know.
No had we seen the cows and sheep unless t’was from a train,
But we sang out loud those thankful songs, each year the very same.
I didn’t mind the singing or the saying of prayers,
I knew we should be thankful, especially for the pears!
One year I carried two great pears to festival at school.
They were squishy, ripe and juicy – I began to drool.
I never was a naughty child, believe me, ‘til that day,
But I simply couldn’t bear to give the two of them away.
And so you see, I ate one, as I walked down prospect road.
And no-one ever guessed a thing, but it’s heavy load.
See, every time it’s Autumn, and all is gathered in,
it reminds me of my childhood, my first remembered sin.
But since I can’t go back to school and take another pear,
I’ll just assuage my conscience with an extra fervent payer.