The Song Of The Bullfinch

The song of the bullfinch I fancy I hear
He sings in the grove to my thoughts ever near
Not the finest songster of the northern Spring
But who can mistake him for the quiet song he does sing.

The male with beautiful pink breast and light blue feathers on his wings and back
And stocky to look at his rounded head black
And a short thick beak designed for cracking seed
A beautiful fellow to look at indeed.

Somewhat plainer but pretty to look at his even quieter wife
To each other devoted for the term of their life
In the lives of the bullfinches for all of Humankind
In devotion to bonding there's lessons to find.

The flood waters of brown flowing in the roadside drain
And the male bullfinch sing in the wind and the rain
Not hard to recognize by sight or by song
You hear and see him once and you cannot get him wrong.