Collecting Flowers

I saw her first many years ago
With a basket on her arm
Collecting flowers so she said
But I was the one that she picked

Springtime when we were both young
With a grin on both our faces
She was flicking her blonde hair
And me trying to be so smart

Smite me down if I tell a lie
But before long we were writhing
In the straw around a haystack
Was she a champion kisser

Her dad caught us of course
In his guise as a concerned father
Said it was deplorable behaviour
With me shaking in my boots

Try to be a bit more discreet
He said with a grin on his face
Being a dyed in the wool country man
There was no fire in his voice

Been married now for thirty years
Watched my daughters like a hawk
But they all chose their own partners
Much like their Ma I suppose

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