I'm sitting in the garden With my small son on my knee He looks up at me with big brown eyes And says “Tell me about Granda's tree†My father planted a tree In nineteen forty two He nurtured it and hadn’t bargained On just how big it grew When I was just seven years old I had a love of climbing trees Many times mum put plasters On my bloodied and skinned knees I can remember one day Wearing my new party dress Peering in through the window A grubby bedraggled mess I’d climbed as high as I could go Then heard a quite loud crack The branch it snapped in two And I landed on my back I’d excelled myself on this occasion You could say I’d gone the whole hog I’d landed on a little offering Left by next doors dog I remember as a little girl My father built me a house in the tree A sturdy wooden house with windows Especially for me When I was in my tree house I could be almost anywhere In a tropical jungle Or in a cave hiding from a grizzly bear Hanging onto my rope ladder With a plastic cutlass on my hip I could be looking for buried treasure My tree house a pirate ship Underneath the carpet In the middle of the floor My father had lovingly made me A little brass-hinged trap door Whenever I got fed up Of being stuck inside I’d open up that trap door And go straight down the slide Sometimes I would stand For maybe half an hour And pretend I was a princess Imprisoned in an ivory tower Some days I’d be a cowgirl On a wild west ranch And sometimes I’d pretend to be A monkey swinging from a branch One day I picked some flowers And mum asked what they were for I said “they are for my cottage With roses around the door†My son is looking wistful Then he smiles at me He says “mummy I would love To see my Granda’s tree†Tears come into my eyes My son’s smile turns into a frown I say “The tree's no longer there The new owners chopped it down†My son says it is sad That the tree's no longer there But no-one can destroy the memories That my son and I share