Upon the cuckoos call I wait
In garden mode as April ends
Amidst the chatter from the hedge
The melody of feathered friends.
To bring the sound of summers tone
The rise and fall, the beck and call
Of culculus returning home.
The migrant songstress calls her mate
A flagrant song of feathered fate
In dance the vagrant ovulates
In fragrant muse of Aprils date.
Amidst the bleating and ths baahs
Of lambs that frolic on the lands
Amidst the coos of collared dove
And all the signs that come to hand.
The sound of cuckoo tells the tale
That summer has arrived to Wales
From Africa they set their sails
To catch the wind, avoid the gales.
As blue skies coat the Berwyns Hills
I linger and allow my ears
To listen at the woodlands edge
And catch the sound as it appears.
Cuck oo, cuck oo, cuck oo, cuck oo
I’ll tell you this and say it’s true
Cuck oo, cuck oo, cuck oo, cuck oo
On Monday morn the world renewed.
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