The sun breaks brilliantly through from the greying clouds and sky
Shining forth upon fresh fields of sweeping rye
The flowers burst into a bloom of the greatest shades of colour
Making country seem so much less duller
The birds are singing sweetly in the trees above my head
Church bells ring from the newlywed
The hedgehogs poke out their noses as they feel the lack of cold
Or so I'm told
I'm talking to you, son of mine
Listen clear, oh son of mine
Oh my son who's dead
You should've stayed inside instead
Oh son of mine
I'm talking to you, son of mine
Why'd you die, oh son of mine?
Oh son I love
Son who looks on me from above
Oh son of mine
The slippers and pipe that I know so well invite me closer
Quaint local fruit from the quaint local grocer
The fire crackles amiably, burning to itself with content
Filling the whole room with the quiet night scent
The cat sits on my lap, happy with it's easy kitty home
Garden stem pokes through from lowly loam
I'm happy and comfortable, sitting here and growing old
Or so I'm told
I'm talking to you, son of mine
Listen clear, oh son of mine
Oh my son who's dead
You should've stayed inside instead
Oh son of mine
I'm talking to you, son of mine
Why'd you die, oh son of mine?
Oh son I love
Son who looks on me from above
Oh son of mine
You never were a man of Jesus or faith or afterlife
But son you had your strife
Now you're in a better place, of ivory and gold
Of memories that we sold
Of mysteries unrolled
Of wonders to behold
Of majesty and miracles and all the things that it should hold
Or so I'm told