When I was small I thought my Gran br Was there just for my sake br And I took her love for granted br How selfish can Infancy make br br The hearts of those too young to know br That of all the things on Earth br A safe and loving childhood br Is the gift of greatest worth. br br And when I grew a little more, br And went to Grammar school, br My Gran, who knew no Latin, br I almost thought a fool. br br Then as a youth who knew all things br But for none of them gave a care, br My Gran became an irrelevance, br Sat in a fireside chair. br br When I thought at last that I was a man, br My Gran had gone to her rest br And I had marked her passing br With a suitably cynical jest. br br But now I recall the peace she would bring br Just by being there br And how it seemed the little ones br Would gather round her chair br br As if they knew that round them br Her love would build a wall, br Strong and safe and special br A refuge for them all. br br And now I think of her often br Of the hard life she had led br Of four of her sons who had marched away br And of two of them who were dead. br br And of her daughter, Mary, br As to womanhood she grew br Taken by that foul disease br That crowded living knew. br br Yet my Gran was never bitter br Though her eyes would fill with tears, br When she thought of what just might have been br As she looked back down the years br But if her spirit still lives on, br As surely our spirits must br Once more I’ll see her smiling eyes br Once more I’ll know the trust br br That Gran would give to all she met br Whoever they might be br But most of all I’m waiting for, br A forgiving kiss for me.