Come Here, Little Robin
Come here, little Robin, and don't be afraid,
I would not hurt even a feather;
Come here, little Robin, and pick up some bread,
To feed you this very cold weather.
The winter has come, but it will not stay long,
And summer we soon shall be greeting;
Then remember, dear Robin, to sing me a song
In return for the breakfast you're eating.
I would not hurt even a feather;
Come here, little Robin, and pick up some bread,
To feed you this very cold weather.
The winter has come, but it will not stay long,
And summer we soon shall be greeting;
Then remember, dear Robin, to sing me a song
In return for the breakfast you're eating.
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