They're Singing In The Laurels Poem by Mark Heathcote

They're singing in the laurels
At first, our lovers danced
Behind the evergreen box-hedge
O' then they're singing in the laurels
Housed by the woodlands-edge

Then they're making their house.
Gathering reeds and rushes to nest.
As the wild wind in skyward climbs
Burst's open her golden fields songfest.

O' how soon their family flourishes
Under a tired world, two become eight.
Then squabbles unfold at daybreak.
No more time for easy lovers to mate
It's just hellos and goodbyes at the gate.

As the seasons flicker ta-ta—goodbye
Adios, my lover—cheerio, I've got to fly.
I've got to go, with the chaff and the grist
Before, these shadows yoke into the mist.

O' songbird your eyes murmur two stars
Wild apricots are our heart's two stones.
But when cockscombs is not a tombstone
Maybe we'll come-a-roaming to meet
We'll come, back, come back home!

Home, behind the evergreen box-hedge
O' then there will be a dancing
O' then there will be singing in the laurels
Housed by the woodlands-edge.