I Inside the Old I Dying

The beech buds wait.

The aish buds wait.

The frogs and twoads in lagwood holes,

hedgehogs in their leafy ditch,

all waiting for His kingdom.

The eth waits.

The dead brakes

that host the holly's bloody beads;

they are His crown of thorns.

He will rise again.

Oh Wyman, Oh Wyman.

Unray I,

Unray I for en.

Oh Wyman, Oh Wyman.

Unray I,

Unray I for en.

Slip from my childhood skin;

I zing, I'm zinging through the forest,

I hover in the holway

and laugh into the leaves.

Oh Wyman, Oh Wyman.

Unray I,

Unray I for en.

Oh Wyman, Oh Wyman.

Unray I,

Unray I for en.

I laugh in the leaves

and merge to meesh,

just a charm in the woak

with the chalky children

of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.

The chalky children of evermore.