Nightingale

Floral flower Florences 

nurse these crimean wars,

Saving souls from sudden sicknesses.

Singing satire songs to souls,

Nocturnal Nightingales nest in nights,

Rescuing the wrecked rest who sacrificed but socks for sorrows.

They died singing,

And they thought swinging.

We wail for women who warmed us,

But lose love for the lads who lost us.

Cry, it's clear who clanked the clutches,

For the crickets shall cry, 

And clear those skies to crystals.