The bells, the bells they ring,
and the choir gathers in the Church,
as the beautiful sun shines outside, the birds do sing,
and it is a moment of loud beauty under the sun,
outside the Church beside the stream,
and it is a glorious place, a glorious place to unwind,
and while away the time,
and the birds are sat upon the gravestones,
keeping the dead up with their beautiful voices,
but I am sure they will not mind,
and as we walk by the river, where do hover the butterflies,
above the water as it gently flows,
and tumbles over the half-submerged rocks,
I dip my feet in the coolness of it all.
I stand still in a gentle breeze and take my fill,
I take my fill for it is sublime and it is magical,
and I will stay here happily all day, painting away,
and in the glorious sun how beautiful it is,
and how beautiful the view,
and I will capture the land and the butterflies,
and I will capture the river and I will capture it all,
I will capture it in paints,
paints with their many beautiful colours,
and in many brush strokes both big and small,
and I will be happy in my work,
after the noise of the bells has died,
happy with the tranquillity of the bird song,
which I appreciate above all.