Literature
Robin and the Rowan tree
Yule is here but I'm alone,
alone aloft a rowan tree.
The wind is cold, my nest is warm,
yet no bird's here to roost with me.
I had a lover too one day
she's found new birds to fawn upon;
Now little else bids me to stay
apart from hope for a new dawn.
But no dawn looms, distant or close,
and my nest's now fast going cold;
and soon, I fear, I'll feel the throes
of aching bones, and growing old.
In my despair, to thee I turn,
oh faithful, fluffy, rowan tree;
You love and ask naught in return
oh would you do the same to me?
Though I may long for redder chests
and beaks that chirp all morning long,
within your leav