As children barefoot in the water, at The spring we cupped our hands, and Drank from the clear cold water, till Mother rattled the pans.

Then off to the blueberry fields we went, Picking all day, with our backs all bent. With our buckets and pots filled to the

Brim, our mouths were blue outside and in.

With old jack then hitched we were on our Way, to home sweet home, as we lay on jack’s hay. Singing and complaining most

Of the way.

For supper that evening, what did we eat? Blueberries and cream, oh what a treat. We went to bed all tuckered out, dreaming Of blueberries all about.

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