At Grandma's House

When I was a young girl of five,
I once visited grandma over the weekend,
Oh how the road stretched long, winding, and lonely!
Oh how I heaved a sigh of relief when the little van dropped me at the faded blue gate!
Grandma and grandpa were standing there to welcome me,
Their faces wrinkled with age,
Their arms veined with age,
But their lips still quivering in smile,
How they were happy to see little Lila!

Dinner was roasted turkey,
Then grandpa told stories of old Van Vilker,
As grandma sewed shirts,
Old Van Vilker,

He used to live in the distance woods,
No one knew where he came from,
But some said his grandpa had come by ship from Netherlands,
Old Vilker lived in a little log cabin,

And baked cakes which no one bought,
Sometimes lonely travellers would stop by the roadside and buy his cakes,
But most times he gave them out to little lads and lasses,
Who would eat then wipe their lips before they went home.


Later when grandma and grandpa stood to wave goodbye to me,

I waved back,
And when the little van had drove off yards away,

I opened the basket and saw the cake grandma had placed inside,

And I thought of old Van Vilker's cakes.