The long rows of briars,

Filled with caps of black.

We used to pick and sing,

A song to send us back.

The scent of our work,

So sweet and true,

Made into a prize,

All done with you.

Rolling, cutting, cooking,

Laughing with the stars.

A sock for everyone,

Customized and bought.

Swinging high and low,

Shrieking with thrills of glee.

Toppling down to the ground,

My turn in one two three.

The memories of old,

Replaced with ones of new.

No more caps of black,

Just a sock for me and you.