We went to pick blackberries up in the woods
With a plastic bowl each and our old welly boots
But the berries were smaller than in previous years
And you said, ”We’ll not find the best ones ‘round here”
“There’ll be better brambles on a differ-ent route”
So we went off in search of superior fruit
But I picked a few from each bush that we passed
And before we knew it we’d come to the last
And though mine were small they were juicy and sweet
I knew that my family were in for a treat
With black-purple goodness my bowl was filled high
Soon to be inside a dirty great pie
But your bowl was empty and it made me feel sad
That baffled look on your face that you had
So I chopped up some apples and added some spice
And you cheered up a bit when I gave you a slice

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