Birdie.

Little birdie, that flies so high, sitting on the fence near by. With the grassy plains below. Threw threw the fog the light house, does glow. As the summer turns to fall, and leaves began to collect and all. Soon the ridged winds will howl, and mister winter will not stall. Painting the world all white...Sparkling and bright. But it'll make me sad to see you, take flight... and I'll think of you in the night... Wondering where you will go, in hopes to see you, when the first sign of spring, does show!