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