In fields of green, a golden flower,
With petals bright, and tall green tower.
There it stands proud and tall,
Lasting throughout spring's rainfall.
It dances in the gentle breeze,
Standing near grass and trees.
From mountains high to valleys low,
The daffodil patches we see grow.
I don't want to pick it up,
Keeping it home in a cup.
I'll leave it there for peace of mind,
For another kindly soul to find.
We rarely get to see it bloom,
Scented by an earthly perfume.
Every year we see it still,
Wales' flower, the daffodil.