Seasons Turn portrays the seasons throughout the year in a vivid and descriptive manner, written by Sylvia Watts who now lives in sunny Cornwall. When I first heard Sylvia sing this I immediately locked on to it as the most perfect song to start our Christmas time concert Maypoles to Mistletoe. The concert tracks the year through song, narration, morris dancing and customs and has been performed for many years. 


Seasons Turn – written on returning home to a temperate climate, after  two years of heat, humidity but no rain, no grass, no flowers – not even the cool of twilight. The changing of the seasons is ever a delight.


Seasons Turn       by Sylvia Watts

The lambs that are born in the snow

The blackthorn’s quick cloud o’er the grey winter fields,

Dry twigs defeated as the sap forces through,

Swelling buds bursts the hard dirt crust yields.

Oh this is the time I love best.


The seasons of the year, turn, turn again,

Welcome gold autumn, welcome green spring,

Blue summer and white winters rain.

I stand by a still summer stream,

Where the chub’s flicking tail spreads a slow rippling ring

And dragonflies hover on blades of green gauze.

The swallows swoop low to drink on the wing

Oh this is the time I love best.


The days begin misty and chill,

The crab’s scarlet skin hides the bitter within

And chestnut burrs split at the rasp of my sole.

The late swallows preen as they wait on the line.

Oh this is the time I love best.


The frost turns the cobwebs to stone,

Puddles and grass crunch under our feet.

Winter ale at the pub prop your boots on the hearth,

Draw the blinds,raise your glass to the wind driven sleet,

Oh this is the time I love best.


So the seasons turn around

They measure our lives as they measure the year,

If you’re weary of winter had your fill of it all

Look over your shoulder – springs nearly here.

Oh this is the time I love best.