A soft rain a falling The Pan pipes are calling Green ivy - TopicsExpress



          

A soft rain a falling The Pan pipes are calling Green ivy crawling Up the bark of a tree The silvery quiver Of the fish in the river I could feel the earth breathing Under my feet With my staff in my hand I set off like a man Spring, pretty Spring I was hoping to meet. The birds were a scurry All in a hurry The fresh smell of slurry Was blown in the air All nature was waiting And soon would be feting The Queen of the May With her laburnum, gold hair. Ah, she is the fairest To me, shes the rarest The most beautiful maiden You ever could spy. She will scatter wild flowers In meadows and bowers With a roguish wee look In her sapphire, blue eye.
Posted on: Tue, 23 Dec 2014 09:33:48 +0000

Trending Topics



Recently Viewed Topics




© 2015