Return Of The Lapwing

It's been years don't know how long nor i'll not lie And that's going back to when i was a boy When last i saw the wandering bird lapwing One cold and windy day in early Spring. With dark wings and white breasts strange type of birds thought i And i asked old man farmer passing by What breed of bird are they with cuck on head? 'Why' those are lapwing little boy he said. And added wise man bent from years of toil I have not seen these birds for quite some while And they only come in weather most severe And strange to see them at this time of year. So many years gone by since that March day And mean while old man farmer passed away And flame of memory rekindle and burn And brightly glow at migrant birds return. Their distinct notes peewit, peewit, pee wee All down those years etched in my memory But will i too like old man be gone to ground On the next time that the lapwing call around.