Lavender is for ladies, a fragrance so sweet,
In the early morning when dawn’s light meets,
a woodless revel where the trees are trimmed low,
as the bride walks softly, in a dress of snow.
A bar carol drifts on the early morning breeze,
remnants of a melody of true romance that leaves
Westland Row, where John Smyth looks into the sun
and sees a flowery kingdom – dreams have begun.
Lady Godiva rides with grace through the town,
her hair a cascade, a shimmering crown,
at the Lavender Lantern the lost find their way
to the green estaminet, where memories play.
St. Andrew sings of love, his voice pure and clear,
in the morning’s embrace, the world draws near.
Lavender is for ladies, and romance is true,
in the early morning song, only John Smyth knew.

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