Wild Asters
In the spring I asked the daisiesIf his words were true, And the clever little daisiesAlways knew.
Now the fields are brown and barren,Bitter autumn blows, And of all the stupid astersNot one knows.
In the spring I asked the daisiesIf his words were true, And the clever little daisiesAlways knew.
Now the fields are brown and barren,Bitter autumn blows, And of all the stupid astersNot one knows.