Beside my crib when I was young;
Before I knew the way to spell
The name of even the smallest bird,
His gentle, joyful song I heard.
Now see if you can tell, my dear,
What bird it is that every year,
Sings “Sweet-sweet-sweet, very merry cheer.”
He comes in March when winds are strong,
And snow returns to hide the earth;
But still he warms his heart with mirth,