Features

Oh, I would na’ be a birdie 

In cold and snow so deep... 

I would na’ be a birdie 

So hungry could na’ cheep. 

Such price to pay for wing-ed flight... 

For freedom of the air... 

Poor birdies search and huddle low 

For tiny bits of fare. 

But then when sun doth grace the sky 

In stillness’ hushed first light... 

Then price t’was paid to lift on wings 

Was worth it. 

Gone the night!