by Kathy Moore
“Tell you one thing”, my baby says to me,
“One of these days this summer, you will see.
I’m comin up here when the season’s right,
When the sun is shinin and it’s nice and bright,
And blueberries, gonna pick, pick my brains out!”
Pick, pick, pick, pick your brains out,
Hands on the steering wheel as she talks.
Taking curves of 90 degrees at 57.
Oooeee, mouth waterin buckets of blueberries!
Now, along about February here in the North,
We’re all more than tired of the cold.
Hungry for vitamin C and warmth and sunshine.
But we still got a mountain of gray left to go.
So, telling and remembering good stories,
Like “Blueberries for Sal” paints a pretty sight.
Cause when you’re looking out on months of snowy white,
It’s nice to bring the summer to light.
It’s nice to think about blueberries.
My son, he moved to Florida, very wise.
While I’m slippin on ice, on the beach he lies.
But when he was just a little guy,
Pickin berries up north was just his style.
Empty bucket, but a mouth all blueberry.
Me, I dress in layers and wear wool socks.
Put flannel sheets on the bed and turn back the clock.
Turn on the oven, roll out the crust,
Some pie after dinner is often a must.
Love to greet and heat and eat blueberries.
Chorus repeats to end