MY COUNTRY AIR  

All is quiet, all is still
Pictured in my memory.

A Magpie clatters somewhere in the greenwood,
Bringing forth reams of great misery,
And sorrow,
To those of us who wait,
Breaking the silence here,
For this is my Country air,
As the shadows they're a-shortin',
And darkness tis approachin'

Oh let us now talk and speak as one,
Like bosom pals of old,
Of seasons past and present,
And yet to come,
In this my Country air,

For the clouds do quicken
Across the dimming skies,
Now that October is in the wind 
An' air,
Hastening the on come Winter,
Whilst her burnished tints fade
Beneath the veil misty dew,
That is the fadin' reside of Summers shadow,
In this my Country air.

Wrapped is She,
My friend this Season,
In a Shroud of Golden brown,
Lighting layer of fire blankets in the Ghostly night,
Keeping cold, and using Good old Christian Spirit War 
 At our door,

Till all Contentment reigns,
And Spring returns,
Over Salmon leap,
Nestling in the Greenwood,
Where bells of freedom Chime,
Giving painful joy to the Deer,
Where our steps are Prehistoric,
In this my Country air,,

And so my bosom pal of old
Turns expectant one full span of Man,
With increased Skies of petrified Fire 'n' flame,
In this my Country air,
Now that October She is in the Wind
An' air.