The Song Of The Robin

Whilst his mate she sits on her eggs in her nest
I fancy i hear and i see him the sun on his red-breast
He singing upon the leafy silver birch tree
Proclaiming the borders of his territory.

It has been many a Season and many a Spring
Since I've heard the song that the robin does sing
But if i heard him again him i would recognize
And his voice it comes to me when i visualize.

The hawthorns look lovely in their blossoms of the May
And the swallows above the old fields all the day
Are singing as in pursuit of flying insects they fly
Migratory birds born to feed in the sky

And in fancy the song of the robin i hear
He does sing his finest at this time of the year
And the old fields look beautiful in their wildborn flowers
And the grass grow so lush in the warm Spring showers.