bluebells-003There was a popular song in the 1950s called The Bluebell Polka, and it began, ‘Picking the Bluebells in the Merry Month of May,’ which was named for poetic licence, because actually, the bluebells appear in April!
Neighbour Helen and I went for a walk into the woods a few days ago.
Just a few weeks ago, the woods were full of tiny white flowers. But this time they were carpeted (a perfect description) with bluebells and their bright green leaves.
I don’t know if other countries are lucky enough to have this brief display of Mother Nature’s artistic beauty or not. But it’s a wonderful sight.
Whatever the year’s weather was like, and we all know how unpredictable it can be, you can guarantee that the bluebells will appear without fail, and only varying by a day or so.
We walked around, admiring the fallen trees, the strange, varied shapes of the branches all sprouting leaves and blossom, and of course, the bluebells stretching in all directions.
Across a stream, in a field, the rescued horses and ponies paused from busily eating the lush green grass, and raised their heads to stare at us. Then they almost shrugged, losing interest and lowering their heads to carry on with more important things. The mindless cruelty that they’d suffered in their past lives was almost forgotten.
bluebells-019Just a few yards away, right in front of us, a squirrel poked its nose out of the bluebells, then, right on cue, it leaped in the air, landing neatly on a tree trunk, where it proudly arched its tail and delicately rubbed its face with both paws, completely ignoring us.
It posed perfectly for my photos.
We wandered back home, greeting the passing dog walkers.
The next time we go for a walk, the woods will look completely different. What will we see next time? I’ll let you know, Dear Readers!

 

In A Song of Scotland book, they list Paddy Roberts as lyricist and F. Stanley as composer.

BLUEBELL POLKA
1. Pickin’ a bluebell in the merry month of May,
And suddenly I saw him strolling on his way,
Pickin’ a bluebell just the same as I was too;
I thought I could be happy with a boy like you.

2. And as he turned and smiled at me my heart stood still,
I never knew a smile could give me such a thrill.
He was a handsome laddie and he looked so good,
I promised that I’d meet him in the bluebell wood.

3. Half past seven by the old oak tree,
I was waiting, anticipating
What could happen to a girl like me
When he came along…

4. Pickin’ a bluebell in the merry month of May
And suddenly I saw him strolling on his way,
Pickin’ a bluebell just the same as I was too,
I thought I could be happy with a boy like you.

5. He looked wonderful. Oh! So wonderful.
How was I to see he would make a fool of me?
Two dark flashing eyes, looked like paradise;
My heart flickered like a flame.

6. What was I to do? Met my Waterloo.
There I stood for him, waiting in the wood for him.
I’m confessin’ I learned my lesson,
And now I’ll never be the same.

7. Pickin’ a bluebell in the merry month of May
Is something I’ll remember when I’m old and grey,
And if I live to ninety-two I know darned well
I never want to see another Scots bluebell.