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  1. A little old woman,
    As old as could be,
    Picked the ripe berries
    From bush and tree.

    Then in a clearing
    She made a fire,
    Piling the dry sticks
    Higher and higher;
    And at the top
    Of the crackling pile,
    She put her gallipot
    On to boil.

    Sugar and fruit
    She boiled for hours,
    Till the juice set red
    As peony-flowers;
    And all the next morning
    The Little Folks ran
    With pursefuls of money
    To buy pots of jam.

    ———–

    Bramble Jam
    by Irene F. Pawsey

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