Oh the blackbirds songs on the gorse at spring
Whilst the sun it shines on the party
When the roads we took
Through the gorse and brooks were wild and open country
Oh the songs we sang where the rabbits run
Where the foxes hid in the bracken
Where the lord’s last prayer will be granted there
Where the young ones will be a smiling
Where their nimble feet ran to greet
The travellers with their stories
Whether young or old and the pages unfold
Of the tales that told of their travels
On the country road where the blacksmith sold
On the blackbird sings in the morning
Whether rich or poor boy or girl
Oh I’ll be with you there in the morning
Oh the ladies dressed in their sunday best
The church bells rang and the people sang
Then we moved on in the morning
Said The Gypsy Poet
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you write poetry beautifully
Thanks glad you enjoyed it