My Merry Bird
J
Joseph Skipsey
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I HAD a merry bird
Who sung a merry song,
And take it on my word,
The day it was not long
In presence of my bird with its merry, merry song.
Did fortune strew my way
With crosses, which, to bear,
Had rendered me a prey
To sorrow or despair―
My birdie trilled its lay, and they vanished into air.
And thus went things with me,
Till lo, with sudden sweep,
Death came across the lea
And laid my bird asleep;
And ever since that hour I've done nought but sigh and weep.
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