Magpie

PATRICK: magpie, was it you who stole the wedding ring? or what other thieving bird would steal such hope away? magpie, I am lost among the hinterland, caught among the bracken and the fern and the boys who have no name MARIANNE: there's no name for us PATRICK: still we sing MARIANNE: and still we sing. little boy, little boy, lost and blue, listen now, let me tell you what to do. you can run on, run along, alone or home between the knees of her; all among her bracken and her ferns and the boy will have a name BOTH: we will sing MARIANNE: and we will sing MARIANNE: one for sorrow PATRICK: two for joy MARIANNE: three for a girl PATRICK: four for a boy MARIANNE: five for silver PATRICK: six for gold MARIANNE: seven for a secret, never to be told