Roll up that map
Roll up that map.
With war the boundaries change
And pestilence obeys no border guards
Hang up that dress
Away with tights and shoes
Our hands no longer touch in dance.
Hand back the scores
The choir cannot meet
Our concert must be sung at home,
alone.
Forget all plans.
Nature will mock man’s pride
And yet the sun still shines.
Away with gloom.
The celandines shine bright
Birds sing and butterflies still
dance.
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