THE YELLOWBIRD
Hey! my little Yellowbird,
What you doing there?
Like a flashing sun-ray,
Flitting everywhere:
Dangling down the tall weeds
And the hollyhocks,
And the lordly sunflowers
Along the garden-walks.
Ho! my gallant Golden-bill,
Pecking ’mongst the weeds,
You must have for breakfast
Golden flower-seeds:
Won’t you tell a little fellow
What you have for tea?—
’Spect a peck o’ yellow, mellow
Pippin on the tree.