Poppies, bobbing above the green
Waving heads back and forth
Dark clouds inbetween
Driving rain from the north.

Vanilla fields, soft an fragrant
Seeds sprinkle in the air
Dished out by a vagrant
He’s wooden so he wont care.

Wild strawberries, seeds on show
The only fruit inside out
In vanilla fields it will grow
Its rosy hands reaching about.

Dreamy days, creamy ways
Strawberries for tea please
Hot tea on tin trays
And strawberries to tease.