Pastry Flour on the Windowsill

Lyrics

Found a tin in the back of the pantry
With her handwriting on the lid
Flour dust and a faded ribbon
And a note of what she did
"Cream the butter till it's softer
Than you think you need"
I can hear her say it from the doorway
Like she's standing next to me

Roll it out, roll it out, a little at a time
Her biscuits on my table, her love in every line
Sweet as the Sunday morning, soft as the summer rain
Pastry flour on the windowsill and Grandma's here again

I never learned to cook, I'd say
I just ate what she made
But the oven knows my fingers now
And the afternoon won't fade
The cat is on the counter
The sun is on the floor
And the house smells like a long-lost hug
Walking in the door

Roll it out, roll it out, a little at a time
Her biscuits on my table, her love in every line
Sweet as the Sunday morning, soft as the summer rain
Pastry flour on the windowsill and Grandma's here again

Some folks leave you money
Some folks leave you land
She left me a measuring cup
And the warmth of her hand
Honey, that's a fortune
You can't spend it, you can share it
Pass the plate around the table
Everybody gets a bite of it

Now the neighbors knock at suppertime
And I never turn them away
I hand them a warm biscuit
And I hear her say "stay"

Roll it out, roll it out, a little at a time
Her biscuits on my table, her love in every line
Sweet as the Sunday morning, soft as the summer rain
Pastry flour on the windowsill and Grandma's here again

Grandma's here again
Sweet and slow, here again