When the sun comes rising up
On a brand new day
When shooting stars score the sky
And quickly fade away
When lark ascends in the fields
Flying high and free
When robin sings his little song...
Spare a thought for me
When the oak in springtime rain
Wakens from the dead
When the sun behind the wood
Glows a winter red
When starlings race and fall to roost
Then chatter in the cover
Think of me even if...
Your hand is in another