So many years have passed it seems
But the memories stay with me, 
When Mom would put us on a train
And my Grandpa we'd go see.



A tiny house, with picket fence,
And flowers smelling sweet
And chickens squawking in the back
Watch out where you put your feet!



Grandma baked a homemade cake
And frosted it with jam,
She wrung a chicken's little neck
And fried it in a pan.



That's the way they did it then
I'm glad that I live now,
Cause if they wanted steak
How in the world did they kill the cow?



We'd gather eggs for breakfast
And that I didn't mind,
You just shoved the chicken off the nest
And lots of eggs you'd find.



"Ham with your eggs?" she would ask,
"Oh no!" would I reply,
My imagination running wild I'd say,
"Please, leave the pig in the sty!"



©Charlotte Anselmo
Used With Permission
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