THE WILLOW

I N S P I R A T I O N

This sad song probably dates back to late 70s/early 80s, life in a tied cottage and making do and mending. Lighting open fires and Rayburn stoves and eating rabbit pie. It is played on a little zither banjo. 



Lyrics

The willow hangs her boughs and her leaves fall to earth.

She stands looking naked as on the day of her birth.

Her branches fall, bring a tear to my eye.

Of all the trees I know, it's the willow makes me cry.


The patterns of her form as the moon sheds her light,

As her long arms reflect all the shades of the night,

In the sallow of her skin as the shadows gently creep.

Of all the trees I know, it's the willow makes me weep.

Middle eight

It's all a part of learning wo we are and what we're doing,

What we're saying what we're seeing. There is no time for sorrow.

The ashes from today light the fires of tomorrow.


The willow hangs her boughs and her leaves fall to earth.

She stands looking naked as on the day of her birth.

Her branches fall, bring a tear to my eye.

Of all the trees I know, it's the willow makes me cry.


Paul J Openshaw (1980 something)

© Paul J Openshaw 2012