The May flowers and the wild English roses
Aren\'t the only things blossoming this night.
The heavy air is still with delight,
As the wheel turns and the seasons shift,
Our fires will burn and the dawn will lift
Her pale skirts, while my legs will tremble,
As I wish to take you beneath the hedgerows,
To cry out your name in aching bliss
And seal this moment with a velvet kiss.