π»π: https://t.me/asgreenasrm
ππππ ππππππ πππππ:Gorse Fairy
βWhen gorse is out of blossom,β
(Its prickles bare of gold)
βThen kissingβs out of fashion,β
Said country-folk of old.
Now Gorse is in its glory
In May when skies are blue,
But when its time is over,
Whatever shall we do?
O dreary would the world be,
With everyone grown coldβ
Forlorn as prickly bushes
Without their fairy gold!
But this will never happen:
At every time of year
Youβll find one bit of blossomβ
A kiss from someone dear!
ππππ ππππππ πππππ:Gorse Fairy
βWhen gorse is out of blossom,β
(Its prickles bare of gold)
βThen kissingβs out of fashion,β
Said country-folk of old.
Now Gorse is in its glory
In May when skies are blue,
But when its time is over,
Whatever shall we do?
O dreary would the world be,
With everyone grown coldβ
Forlorn as prickly bushes
Without their fairy gold!
But this will never happen:
At every time of year
Youβll find one bit of blossomβ
A kiss from someone dear!