They buck you up, your mum and dad,
‘Cause you mean everything to them.
They give you what they never had.
To them you are their little gem.
And they in turn had love and care
From grandparents who went before.
Young once, they now have silver hair.
It’s you, their grandchild, they adore.
The generations who have gone
Have left us legacies of care.
For love, like hate, is handed on,
For us to feel, enjoy and share.