Green grows the laurel and soft falls the dew

Sorry am I love, I'm parted with you

Sorry am I, but contented must be

She loves another far better than me

I passed my love's window, both early and late

The look that she gave me, it made my heart break

The look that she gave me, could ten thousand kill

She loves another, but I love her still

Green grows the laurel and soft falls the dew

Sorry am I love, I'm parted with you

Sorry am I, but contented must be

She loves another far better than me

I wrote her a letter in short, rosy lines

The answer she gave me was twisted and twined

You write your love letters, fancy and fine

You write to your love, and I will write mine

Green grows the laurel and soft falls the dew

Sorry am I love, I'm parted with you

Sorry am I, but contented must be

She loves another far better than me

Now sometimes I wonder why women love men

And oft'times I wonder why they love them

For women are faithful and kind, don't you know

And men are deceivers where ever they go

Green grows the laurel and soft falls the dew

Sorry am I love, I'm parted with you

Sorry am I, but contented must be

She loves another far better than me

_{As a note, I do not, nor will I claim to, agree with any of the more sexist elements to this song...sex and gender are not the definition of who someone is. So that last part feels somehow inaccurate, inadequate; but this song, the feeling of it, touches exactly on someplace I keep hidden within the best I can, these days. My fox played it, unintentional, and the tears escaping from the deep and secret places within my heart and mind...they were as real, or more so, than anything else in this world I am in. Know that, if nothing else. After a long dispute with many people, some of them dead, and a lot of them myself, I have come to the conclusion that this concept of 'true love' is likely real. And, even that, is not yet a concrete belief. The only defining characteristic I have yet found is that it does not dull; and nor does it end.}

_{I don't have a link for this one, I'm afraid. If I am able to gather my courage, perhaps I will post it in my own voice. But that's not a promise.}

_{Right now I'm lying about, the only one awake on my block, and perhaps one of few in all the city, of those who don't run night shifts. It's in those middling hours where one tends to be unsure of whether it counts as really late at night or is now just really early in the morning. I am tempted to wander the streets, as I once did, perhaps with my brave Dog at my heels; no lead would be necessary at this hour, even. The night creatures do not know the laws of Man. If I could, I would slip out of the back door and in my thickly calloused bare feet, walk the night-streets until I should come to a place I know, and perhaps stop to rest there for the night. Or, like as not. Keep going. Indeed, at this hour and in this mood I would cross thousands of miles to find myself again; I have become quite lost. Although I suppose more lost to my own rambling than anything else, perhaps. Tomorrow is a date I will always remember. June sixteenth. The day of many things, for me, a year or two in the past, come tomorrow. A gain, and a loss, and a win. Something new to my life, one hope for a future ripped away, and another path opening before my eyes. But tomorrow on its own will not be so grand or terrible, I think. I will go fishing in amongst the plants and animals that I love so much more than the average homo sapiens.   And do dishes, and kiss my loved ones, and make plans. And at some point, I'm sure, I will wander off and sit silent, for a moment. Perhaps I will shed a tear or two; I'm only mortal, after all (though if there are angels in a heaven somewhere, I am sure they have wept more, for all of their existence, than anything that dwells on this planet, this Terra, Gaia, Earth, could ever understand). And, in my own way, in the deep and hidden places in my heart, the truths will be repeating themselves over and again: life has been turning and twisting and changing since it started, and will continue to do so; I am growing older, and once I was younger and made the foolish mistakes of a youngster (and often I still do); I have no idea who I am now, if ever I did; and I will always remain stupidly, completely in love with someone I no longer know, no matter how deep it becomes buried. And it's okay. I don't expect a world to blossom at my fingertips anymore, just because there is one inside of me made from the light cast by all of those "you"s I write for. It's never just one. And that's okay. I will die someday, and that's okay too. It's all okay. Even if it's not right; or will never feel right; even if the world changes to be unrecognisable; I have a phoenix at my back. I am wolf, and I am human, and I am both, and I am neither. I am boy, and I am girl, and I am both, and I am neither. I am triumphant. But I regret. I wish all of you a happy June sixteenth.}