The Fifteen Acres

I

I cling and swing

On a branch, or sing

Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O!

Or fling my wing

On the air, and bring

To sleepier birds a warning, O!

That the night's in flight,

And the sun's in sight,

And the dew is the grass adorning, O!

And the green leaves swing

As I sing, sing, sing,

Up by the river,

Down the dell,

To the little wee nest,

Where the big tree fell,

So early in the morning, O!

II

I flit and twit

In the sun for a bit

When his light so bright is shining, O!

Or sit and fit

My plumes, or knit

Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, O!

And she with glee

Shows unto me

Underneath her wings reclining, O!

And I sing that Peg

Has an egg, egg, egg,

Up by the oat-field,

Round by the mill,

Past the meadow,

Down the hill,

So early in the morning, O!

III

I stoop and swoop

On the air, or loop

Through the trees, and then go soaring, O!

To group with a troop

On the gusty poop

While the wind behind is roaring, O!

I skim and swim

By a cloud's red rim

And up to the azure flooring, O!

And my wide wings drip

As I slip, slip, slip,

Down through the rain-drops,

Back where Peg

Broods in the nest

On the little white egg,

So early in the morning, O!