The sun goes up,
The sun goes down
The days creeep quickly by
Before you’ve seen the twinkling stars
Dark clouds have filled the sky

You hear them in the early Spring
You hear their distant cry
But when the leaves begin to fall
Wild geese must homeward fly

The blossom forms, the flower blooms
The wild rose blushes red
See it, touch it, savour it now
Before it’s withered and dead.