Written at 00:29 on 8 March 2024

Where misty seas and mountains merge,

Beyond the fighting and the scourge,

‘Midst windy wood and sun-soaked vale,

There comes to call a nightingale.

Not small and frail, a warbling twee, But strong and sweet a melody.

A cry to arms, a cry to war

Will ne’er be heard there anymore.

A nightingale there comes to call.

A place of peace, a place for all,

The nightingale has come to call.