It was dark and cold
It was April cold
The very beginning of day
I was just about twelve years old
Long ago and far away
But it's one of the things I remember still
I always have and I always will
The sun coming up like a dazzling cup
Just over Saunderton Hill
Then there was...
Breakfast at Bradenham Woods
In the airs of the morning
Mornings at seven
To borrow what Browning would say
Heaven could never lay on
Such a clamour of birdsong
The larch, the primrose
Sunlight slanting and gay
Breakfast at Bradenham Woods
And without any warning
A magic was made that has stayed
For the whole of my life
I could never go back
Without breaking the spell
Well then, I'll never try
For breakfast at Bradenham Woods
I must keep til I die