Just before breakfast, rather soon
For so sweet and pretty song.
But neverthless, that was his way
Of helping me to start the day.
And a catbird trying to mock him
A chattering squirrel looking for a
nut
She had buried late last fall.
The redbird, perched on the limb,
Sends out her mate his call.
There's the pretty bluebird and saucy
Jenny wren,
Tiny little thing, tired from her trip
from south to north,
Her home now to lease, then
Her family to raise and such hungry
little fellows,
Just keep her busy from morn till
night,
Till they are big enough to take their
flight.
this must be Spring, how do I know?
Because the birds have told me so.
Author: Roxie Ellen
Not for reproduction. Copyright protected.
