The birdsong from the trees above,
The trees above thy head.
The birdsong is so beautiful.
That is what I said.
The little dicky birds up there,
Flying to and fro,
Are beautiful, my eye declares,
When they are swooping low.
It’s April now, indeed it is.
The fauna’s waking now.
The birds have flown back north again
From the sunny south.
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