Such perfume like a flowery, prickly bride

I meant to put the cyclamen outside
Their scent’s  so good, I may keep them near me
We walked through yellow gorse near the North Sea
Such perfume like a flowery, prickly bride
Flowers and their  small hearts can never lie
Nor can maples and the holly trees
I meant to put the cyclamen outside
Their scent’s  so good, I may keep them near me
I must be sure I don’t let them get dry
I   promise I will  listen to their plea
No longer can plants stand on our TV
I meant to put the cyclamen outside