The Fifteen Acres

I I cling and swing On a branch, or sing Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O! Or fling my wing On the air, and bring To sleepier birds a warning, O! That the night's in flight, And the sun's in sight, And the dew is the grass adorning, O! And the green leaves swing As I sing, sing, sing, Up by the river, Down the dell, To the little wee nest, Where the big tree fell, So early in the morning, O! II I flit and twit In the sun for a bit When his light so bright is shining, O! Or sit and fit My plumes, or knit Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, O! And she with glee Shows unto me Underneath her wings reclining, O! And I sing that Peg Has an egg, egg, egg, Up by the oat-field, Round by the mill, Past the meadow, Down the hill, So early in the morning, O! III I stoop and swoop On the air, or loop Through the trees, and then go soaring, O! To group with a troop On the gusty poop While the wind behind is roaring, O! I skim and swim By a cloud's red rim And up to the azure flooring, O! And my wide wings drip As I slip, slip, slip, Down through the rain-drops, Back where Peg Broods in the nest On the little white egg, So early in the morning, O!