  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 |
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