The Blackbird


The blackbird is a bonny bird
That singeth in the wood
His song is in the evening heard
When the red cow chews her cud
His song is heard in morning loud
Upon the bright white thorn
While the blythe milkmaid sings as proud
And holds the world in scorn.


O bonny is the blackbird still
On top of yon fir tree
On which he wipes his golden bill
And blithely whistles he
He sings upon the sapling oak
In notes all rich and mellow
Oft' have I quit towns noise, and folk
In springs sweet summers weather.


The blackbird is a bonny bird
I love his mourning suit
And song in the spring mornings heard
As mellow as the flute
How sweet his song in April showers
Pipes from his golden bill
As yellow as the kingcup flowers
The sweetest ditty still
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