PATRICK: magpie, was it you who stole the wedding ring? or what other thieving bird would steal such hope away? magpie, I am lost among the hinterland, caught among the bracken and the fern and the boys who have no name
MARIANNE: there's no name for us
PATRICK: still we sing
MARIANNE: and still we sing. little boy, little boy, lost and blue, listen now, let me tell you what to do. you can run on, run along, alone or home between the knees of her; all among her bracken and her ferns and the boy will have a name
BOTH: we will sing
MARIANNE: and we will sing
MARIANNE: one for sorrow
PATRICK: two for joy
MARIANNE: three for a girl
PATRICK: four for a boy
MARIANNE: five for silver
PATRICK: six for gold
MARIANNE: seven for a secret, never to be told
