The Bosky Wood

It won’t be long til you can go
Down in the bosky wood
To see a new year sprout again
With leaves in bud; hear birds’ refrain
Imbue the spring air good

Where lambs will jump up through the air
And Daffs blow on the breeze
Where life will rise up from the ground
To herald in the season sound
From hibernation’s freeze

And there above the canopy
The sun will start to climb
Up in the sky with greater strength
With warmth kept no more at arm’s length
By hailing in springtime

 

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