The Little Bird
by
There was once a little Bird so full of Song
That he sang in the Rose-Bush the whole Night long.
And “Oh,” said the Redbird to the Jay,
“Don’t you wish you could sit and sing that way?”
“Mercy, no!” said the Jay; “for he sings too late;
I sing well enough for to please my Mate.”
There was once a little Bird so full of Song
That he sang in the Rose-Bush the whole Night long.
Then “Oh,” said the Redbird to the Crow,
“Don’t you wish you could sit and sing just so?”
“Do hush,” said the Crow, “or I’ll start for to weep,
Be–caw–caw–cause he’s a-losing of his sleep.”
There was once a little Bird so full of Song
That he sang in the Rose-Bush the whole Night long.
And “Oh,” said the Redbird to the Wren,
“Don’t you wish you could sing so now and then?”
“Not me,” said the Wren as she shook her Head;
“I think his Mamma ought to put him to Bed.”
But the Singing Bird was so full of Glee
That he sang all night in the Rose-Bush Tree.