The Red Robin

Cock Robin he got a neat tippet at spring
And he sat in a shed and heard other birds sing
And he whistled a ballad as loud as he could
And built him a nest of oak leaves by the wood.

And furnished it just as the celadine pressed
Like a bright burning blaze by the edge o' its nest
All glittering with sunshine and beautiful rays
Like high polished brass or the fire in a blaze.

Then sung a new song on the bend o' the brere
And so it kept singing the whole of the year
Till cowslips and wild roses blossomed and died
The red Robin sung by the old spring side.
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