Wrens

The memories come to me from years ago Of tiny plain brown birds i used to know They lived in woodland, garden and hedgerow And many died in Winter frost and snow. In privet hedgerows near the homes of men Cruel Winter took it's toll on race of wren From windblown frost no cold proof place to hide And ageing wrens and young and fragile died. For tiny birds they had a big bird song And all through the Spring they carolled loud and long And in late May mum was out with family And a dozen young a common sight to see. On St Stephen's the day after Christmas Day The Wrenboys through the parish bike their way And sing the song of wren at every door The song their fathers had sung years before. In Spring their numbers seem to multiply And the distinct song of wren a song of joy And the memories still with me from years ago Of tiny plain brown birds i used to know.