When Cuckoos Called Poem by Mary Champion

In olden days, when I was young:
the grass grew greener,
the air was cleaner,
the sky hung bluer,
the clouds were fewer,
and cuckoos called in Spring.

In olden days, when I was young:
my step felt lighter,
my eyes shone brighter,
the world seemed kinder -
or was I blinder?
but cuckoos called in Spring.

In olden days, when I was young:
the clocks ran slower
and stretched each hour.
Alluring - fecund,
the future beckoned.
And cuckoos called in Spring.

In olden days, when I was young:
I have to own up -
to be a grown up
was my ambition,
my sacred mission.

If I'd my life again, I'd savour
every drop of youth's sharp flavour:
treasure time that lingered longer,
making all the mem'ries stronger -
like cuckoo calls in Spring.


In olden days, when I was young:
I squandered pleasures
I should have treasured -
those hours I wasted
and scarcely tasted -
when cuckoos called in Spring.