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 All Rights Reserved By Author Website Mail

Sequenced by Richard Goodyear
Smick & Smodoo's World