Down Where the Willow Wands Weep - Alasdair Roberts

I took my only young son, And my only daughter

Down where the willow wands weep into the water

And Walter my young son, he reached up and caught her

When away like a seedling, a gentle wind brought her

I had a daughter and a son

But in the undergrowth I lost them

For I am made of blood and bone

And they are made of bud and blossom

And all the sorrows of their sires

Their sinning and wrongdoing cost me

Upon the thorny, thorny briars

May the wild water toss me

And so I’ll leave my native land

Clad in birch and rhododendron

In Caerlon, Albion, and Man

May river flow and ever wend on