Barbara's posting from this thread:

THE BLACK DODDER (by Mick Fitzgerald)

Oh,(New? Cruel?) springtime comes; the rain in the morning
And the swan's (?) changing view -- scattered weeds blowing;
And I am your stranger, to chance without warning
On the song of the black Dodder flowing;

CHORUS: Oh, spring rushes on and leaves you;
And trees will be green while they stand
For seasons are only a verse in your song
That you hold for a while in your hand.

She flows like a water both easy and free
Over the secrets well hidden from me;
And riches and houses keep growing; keep growing;
Soon they'll bow to the black Dodder flowing;

I stood for a while but she turned for the sea,
Saw the wind reach and touch her, before turning to me;
And I('d) walked along with her without ever knowing
The song of the black Dodder's flowing.