My Mandolin Sings
Like a thrush on the heather,
My mandolin sings.
Dancing as a tiny feather,
The joy that it brings!
If times be weighed by weather,
I'm lonely or sad --
Whatever my heart's tether,
My mandolin sings.
Her strings fly 'neath my fingers,
How happy our days.
Her high note chirping lingers
In air as she plays!
Deeply as a kitten purrs,
Her low notes uncurl.
Whichever part she prefers,
How happy our days.
Brooks babblin', pine limbs swirlin',
The mandolin sings.
Tails twitchin', wings unfurlin',
As nature it springs.
Whenever mercy's fallin',
By day or by night,
I grant my heart its callin' --
The mandolin sings.
by William Mark Gabriel
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