As I stand beneath the mellowing September sun.
I watch the Swallows swoop down low for their final show.
And amidst the constant drone of combines and bailers;
Fields of gold turn into nothing but memories and hazy dust.
There is a sense of melancholy in the air, our summer is fading;
Our lady so fair.
Her familiar scents of roses & strawberries, cucumber and Pimms;
Will soon be replaced by stewed apples & pickles wood smoke & Port.
But before she bids her final farewells.
She kisses our crowns with her fading rays
And I thank her with a quiet prayer;
For her beauty her splendour and all that she guards.
Her kindness is noted and may she return.
I watch the Swallows swoop down low for their final show.
And amidst the constant drone of combines and bailers;
Fields of gold turn into nothing but memories and hazy dust.
There is a sense of melancholy in the air, our summer is fading;
Our lady so fair.
Her familiar scents of roses & strawberries, cucumber and Pimms;
Will soon be replaced by stewed apples & pickles wood smoke & Port.
But before she bids her final farewells.
She kisses our crowns with her fading rays
And I thank her with a quiet prayer;
For her beauty her splendour and all that she guards.
Her kindness is noted and may she return.
