A leading songster of the Spring of the year
The whistle of the gray shrike thrush so pleasant to hear
He finds his food on the ground and he sings on the trees
And his music carries in the freshening breeze,
I could stand and listen to him all day long
The plain looking bird with the beautiful song
You hear his voice once and you know it again
The song of the bird in your mind does remain
As from tree to tree around his borders he fly
The gray shrike thrush is singing in the wood nearby
From males of his own kind he has borders to defend
His partner the only one he sees as a friend
In silence nearby she sits in her nest
As she incubate her eggs with the heat of her breast.
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