Grey Thrush's Final Song

The grey shrike thrush has sung his final song He lay on forest floor neath fallen leaves And mother nature who gives life and then take For her dead children never seems to grieve. I heard him sing all through the balmy Spring And in the Summer at the dawn of day But he will never see another Spring And under Winter leaves the shrike thrush lay. In Spring when sun will shine on woodland trees His sons and daughters will sing all the day And never even remember their dad Who under leaves will have gone to decay. In early Summer young birds take to wing And from branch to branch through leafy wood they fly But hands of time keep turning all the while And like dead thrush they soon will age and die.