The Coming of the Lamb
The coldness of the winter slips away so slowly..
Those spiteful, chilly winds blowing kindly into Spring..
The darkened days made short without the light are banished
for a while...
The clock's have changed again, I think I lost an hour..
That golden sun is high above and smiling in the sky..
While the silent wings of a butterfly float on gently by..
There's a cheerful, whistling minstrel waking up the dawn..
It's reveille time for those asleep, the hibernations over..
The slowly moving creatures come up from lairs and dens..
There's a cacophony of sounds that echo all around..
Of yaps and barks and nest's so full of chirping..
All looking for that virgin taste of mother's milk..
There standing in the clearing a stag is roaring loudly..
Until a shot gun blast is heard and a silence fills the air..
The farmer's crop are waking up from deep..
Seedlings stretching skyward and reaching for the warmth.
This is a special season when nature's at it's best..
So many hopes and dreams are sitting in the future..
The buds will turn to flower and the trees a coat of leaves..
Our fields of barley, wheat and corn are waving in the lea..
This is the green and pleasant land, this England that I love..
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