[bluebells]

Lucy, remember,
the smell of that fall,
the fires of fungus,
and the rotting leaves,
I fell off the wagon,
into your arms,
into this long month of sundays,
you were my husband,
my wife,
my heroine,
now this is our final December,
now deep in a forest,
losing all thought of spring,
and nothing can help me remember,

And I'm going nowhere fast,
A darker day has hold at last,
deep in a dream,
I set the converse to spinning,
and your love has come too late,
I wait from the garden gate,
wake me up,
when the bluebells are ringing,

Now that it's over,
after all that we had,
a river runs through the rafters,
down, down, down,
so leave me sleeping,
dreaming only of spring,
and a phone rings out and I remember,

But I'm going nowhere fast,
A darker day has hold at last,
deep in a dream,
I set the converse to spinning,
and your love has come too late,
now wave to the garden gate,
wake me up,
when the bluebells are ringing,

Ringing,
ringing out,
ringing,
when I hear them ringing, my love,
when I hear them ringing,
(ringing)

[in The Magic Position, by Patrick Wolf, 2007.]