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The breeze makes the trees wave and chant
North meadow for willow trees far

When the red-eyed sun comes yawning
Wakes the meadow, makes the morning
There starts another day
Nature lends her subtle bounty
Seasoning this rustic county
Cares are a world away

The breeze makes the trees wave and chant
North meadow for willow trees far

One small meadow, four tall willows
Murmur as the autumn wind blows
Summer was everything
Hanging by the minnowed river
Winter makes the willow shiver
Suddenly there is spring

Written by:

Peter Giles