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