The Skylark

O'er grass ground and plough'd fields now whistles the sky lark
Oer fallow field meadow and glen
Oer moist moors and furze heaths oer Paddock and dry park
It whistles its ditty springs coming agen


It is lost in a cloud then is seen in the sunshine
One wing is gilded the other seems blue
It sits on its nest and sleeps soundly by moonshine
On its writing mark'd eggs now pin headed wi dew.


I love the proud sky lark the copple crown sky lark
A flying and singing every inch as he flies
He begins afore sun rise till sunset and nigh dark
And seems but a butterfly up in the skies —


He hangs I' the cloud like a freckle o' brown
And sees the hen lark i the corn running round
He drops all at once like a stone he comes down
Just a moment hes down on the ground.
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