Where the briar blooms pink

There she goes flying, like straw alas
My blowaway girl in the blowaway grass.


We should have known, we knew too well
There is no holding a blowaway girl


But so many pretty things came to pass
When we sat down in the blowaway grass


Where it shone so warm, like silk of the sun
Over the hot wild gully of stone

And covered the granite's knuckle and chink
Piling so soft where the briar bloomed pink


We both forgot, or pretended to
How the world must roll when the next wind blew.


The wind blows high from gully to hill
And there you go flying my blowaway girl


While your poor lover, alone alas
Sits chewing a straw in the blowaway grass.


Blowaway Grass by: Douglas Stewart