As fall comes with melancholy
I see the Acer Rubrum tree
Its blood red leaves, a season's shroud
A widow no one cares about
The magpie's voice 'neath clouds, ash grey
Its hateful chatter comes my way
It warns all creatures far and near
Those ancient words are what I hear:
One for sorrow, two for joy
Three for a girl, four for a boy
Five for silver, six for gold
Seven for a tale never to be told
Eight you live, nine you die
I hear it, it's the magpie
Wand'ring 'neath the oak archway
I watch the waning light of day
Their barken pillars standing tall
And glorious like a cathedral
Onward, lured to muddy paths
I am the fool who's led by laughs
Succumbing to the time it takes
Past roots of trees like wooden snakes
This place, it calms my troubled mind
At times when I can't stand my kind
And when I get back on my way
The magpie's chatter comes my way
One for sorrow, two for joy
Three for a girl, four for a boy
Five for silver, six for gold
Seven for a tale never to be told
Eight you live, nine you die
I hear it, it's the magpie