For all his life, Frank had been at war with the willows. They sprouted in and around the stream, clogged the irrigation ditches, and choked off the water flow.
His land, a narrow plain between
...
[+]
In the springtime, in the spring,
I sing to my lover
A sweet lullaby.
Oh, how I cry!
And oh, how I mourn!
I play and perform.
In the springtime, in the spring
I sing to her.
In the summer, in the heat,
I play with my lover
Games happy and gay,
Oh, how we play!
And oh, how we laugh!
I dance and I clap.
In the summertime, in the summer,
I play with her.
In the autumn, in the fall,
I lose my sweet lover
To the dark and the mist.
Oh, how she’s missed!
And oh, what I’ve lost,
The one I love most.
In the autumn, in the fall,
I’m lost without her.
In the winter, in the cold,
My lover comes home!
To my embracing hug.
Oh, how she's loved!
And oh, she is home!
I am not alone,
In the winter, in the cold
I’m home with her.