Local but lewd language lurking among the leaves

In folk myth, wild arums are connected with bawdiness, writes Damien Enright.

Westering home with a song in the air (it’s a robin doing the singing, not myself) the round-leaved wall pennyworth on the ditch ahead of me gleams like ducats or doubloons in the sun.

Like ducats are the cushiony leaves or sometimes silver dollars, or the golden bottle tops on the milk bottles once upon a time delivered to the door, gold for creamy, silver for less creamy, red for skimmed milk. The blue tits would raid them, especially the gold tops which also signified unhomogenised, farmers’ milk. Clever birds —they knew what was good for them. Or was it?