Sunshine rays, make better days,

Whilst fields of rape seed bloom,

Yet yellow bellied nervous types,

Fear the impending doom.

But dream of those school dinners,

With custard on a tart,

Yellow egg yolk, there is no joke,

To cook it soft, an art.

Stars that shine, through countless time,

Glare yellow in the sky,

Their light so fast, comes from the past,

Never knowing when they die.