Текст песни
[Куплет 1] You kneel by the rosemary, sleeves rolled to the sun The little ones crowd close to see how it’s done “First, warm the pan; let the butter turn gold Then add what the garden is ready to hold” You laugh when they measure with hands instead of spoons And pass down the taste of a long afternoon [Предприпев] You learned it from your mother, she learned it before Now three generations are leaning in for more [Припев] A little of this, a pinch of that A story with every spoonful you add Pass it around, let the good years grow Love has a way of finding its way home From your hands to theirs, the old words come through The sweetest tradition is making it new [Куплет 2] The basil leaves shine on the garden table One grandchild stirs while another sets the labels You tell them how uncle jo always chose too much thyme And how the whole family stayed till the stars climbed They write down the steps, but the margins fill fast With names and small jokes that are meant to outlast [Предприпев] You learned it from your mother, she learned it before Now three generations are leaning in for more [Припев] A little of this, a pinch of that A story with every spoonful you add Pass it around, let the good years grow Love has a way of finding its way home From your hands to theirs, the old words come through The sweetest tradition is making it new [Бридж] “Don’t chase every measure,” you say with a grin “Some things take patience; some need a little more in” They tuck that advice with the recipe card And carry it onward wherever they are [Final chorus] A little of this, a pinch of that A story with every spoonful you add Pass it around, let the good years grow Love has a way of finding its way home From your hands to theirs, the old words come through The sweetest tradition is making it new [Аутро] The sun slips low, but the garden stays bright Your recipe travels home with them tonight
