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I’ll tell you, shall I, something I remember? Something that still means a great deal to me. It was long ago. A dusty road in summer I remember, A mountain, and an old house, and a tree That stood, you know, Behind the house. An old woman I remember In a red shawl with a grey cat on her knee Hummi...

I’ll tell you, shall I, something I remember? Something that still means a great deal to me. It was long ago. A dusty road in summer I remember, A mountain, and an old house, and a tree That stood, you know, Behind the house. An old woman I remember In a red shawl with a grey cat on her knee Humming under a tree. She seemed the oldest thing I can remember, But then perhaps I was not more than three. It was long ago. I dragged on the dusty road, and I remember How the old woman looked over the fence at me And seemed to know How it felt to be three, and called out, I remember 'Do you like bilberries and cream for tea?' I went under the tree And while she hummed, and the cat purred, I remember How she filled a saucer with berries and cream for me So long ago, Such berries and such cream as I remember I never had seen before, and never see Today, you know. And that is almost all I can remember The house, the mountain, the grey cat on her knee, Her red shawl, and the tree, And the taste of the berries, the feel of the sun I remember, And the smell of everything that used to be So long ago, Till the heat on the road outside again I remember, And how the long dusty road seemed to have for me No end, you know. That is the farthest thing I can remember. It won’t mean much to you. It does to me. Then I grew up, you see.