  You poor little birds, It’s happened again— In the midst of your play Down patters the rain. You were caught in a shower Just so last week, And I thought that morning I ought to speak; decoration decoration I hear you all up I know you have tried Each tree on the lawn, Yet not one of you all Have picked up a straw— Such improvident birds I ne’er before saw. But I hope you see now That it would be best To let your play go And build you a nest. |
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