“There was once was a farmer who took a young Miss, to the back of the barn where he gave her a…
Lecture, on horses and chickens and eggs and told her that she had such beautiful…
Manners, which suited a girl of her charms. A girl that he wanted to take in his…”
The lines never ended the way I thought they would – they way I wanted them to. My mum would sing this song as we drove along in the car. We were only kids. I didn’t have the ability to discern that the Miss should perhaps have said a great big ‘No’ to the farmer – after all, she ended up raising loads of sweet violets and taking in his washing and ironing.
Still, perhaps I was taking it in (the warning of the song – not the washing). I’m looking for more than sweet violets.
She sang too of Daisy. Daisy who was supposed to give her answer true. Daisy who could have had a life with a guy and bicycle built for two. Who knows what Daisy answered? I recently heard from several elderly women whom I gather with from time to time that they met their beaus at the local bicycle club – when they were younger, of course. I’m not sure they’re up to much cycling these days. But then neither am I.
She also sang that good old song. Others sang it into my life, too. A song of a love that is simple. Love that can be known for sure. Love that’s written about in a book. Written about in lots of books. A song that I’ve been singing for years since. A song that comes into my head, unbeckoned, yet ever so welcomed. A love that’s for the weak.
Yes, he loves me, Yes, he loves me!
That’s the song of my life. In between the other tunes of my life – and the occasional ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ – I can throw daisy petals to the wind and change tunes and sing loudly – with absolute certainty –
Yes! Jesus loves me! The bible tells me so.