And what will the robin do then, poor thing?
He will sit in the barn, and keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing, poor thing!”
(Others join in the song, one or two at a time; and, at the close, all are singing.)
Mary. Yes: he comes up close to our back-door and eats the crumbs, and perches on the apple-tree boughs. Mother says it seems as if he were one of the family.
Debbie. Now, I should a great deal rather be a swallow, and fly away. Then I could fly away down South where the oranges grow, and figs and sugar-cane, and see all the wonderful sights; and I’d go to the beautiful sunny islands away over the seas.
Johnny. You’d get tired, maybe, and drop down into the water.
Joe. No. He’d light on vessels’ topmasts: that’s the way they do.
Debbie. ’Twould be a great deal better than living in a barn all winter.
Dora. Oh, this morning I saw the prettiest bird I ever saw in all my life! Oh, if he wasn’t a pretty bird! Father said ’twas a Baltimore oriole. Part of him was black, and part of him red as fire. Oh, he was a beauty! If ever I am a bird, I’ll be an oriole!