Beatrice here, I am quite pleased with how The Saga is evolving,though feel I must remind you, Worzel dear, with a prod that this is Godfrey’s story…our lives entwined of course, but we must not deviate. I do not sing as much round the place, with Adelaide and Benny here, but the odd old pair blissfully occupy a world of their own, they ask very little. Missing in summer the roving life, they oft go a wander with wagon and trunk for a week or two. They invite themselves wherever they please for meals, I long ago quit worrying about them getting lost, Benny and Adelaide always return. They return with fruit or berries they have filched, once a fine, fat trout for tea, and always a story. True to form, tonight they rattled up the lane, trunk and wagon filled with pail after pail of ripe blackberries. (Pails I later made Benny return to Batley Dairy, where they had been purloined). We found the most delightful spot, Adelaide proudly declared, Yes, I replied…I think I know the place, we call it Rainbow’s Other End…..
Once a young daydreamer set out blackberry picking, the morning dew soaked through the shoes the boy wore, he wore, for it was late summer time. He carried two pails as he bumped down the trails, and we met where the brambles did climb Oh!, the hill where the thick brambles climb.
Plunk! went the ripe berries so juicy and sweet, for Ma to make jam and good pies. Heavy our load as we rested tween rows, deep where the softest grass grows- Oh!, and below where the old dirt roads wend … We named the place, “Rainbows Other End”
Sticky our hands and faces feasting on berries, we splashed in the cool of the rill. The young daydreamer and I raised rainbows, remember forever, I will ,Oh!, remember forever I will. and we picked through the heat of the day, Oh!, we picked till we picked our fill,and at eve the boy, so tired and dusty, walked home to the farmhouse with me. Ma had supper ready, with mince and tatties, cake for afters and big mugs of hot, sweet tea. We ate until we were full, Oh!, we ate until we were so full.
Once an eight year old dreamer set out blackberry picking, to the place we called “Rainbows Other End”. My Ma taught us both to sing this song, when summertime rolled round again, Oh!, when berry time rolled round again.
My old Mum reckoned she had never seen so scruffy a child as Godfrey, I recall her gossiping to Raewyn Flowerdew- “Undersized, clad in a mangy kilt of a pattern too faded and darned to be an actual color, wrapped about him three times. two skinned knees, no shirt, he peered out neath a thick fringe of auburn hair, oddly shaved up one side, and daubed with blue paint. He stood in my yard, grinning like Prince Valiant, albeit missing most of his teeth, and holding up for me two full pails of blackberries…Godfrey, aged eight..Oh!.