BIRDIE, birdie, weet your whistle! Sing a sang to please the wean; Let it be o' Lady Summer Walking wi' her gallant train! Sing him how her gaucy mantle Forest-green trails owre the lea, Broider's frae the dewy hem o't Wi' the field-flowers to the knee! How her foot's wi' daisies buskit, Kirtle o' the primrose hue; An' her e'e sae like my laddie's, Glancing, laughing, loving blue! How we meet on hill and valley, Children sweet as fairest flowers, Buds and blossoms o' affection, Rosy wi' the sunny hours. Sing him sic a sang, sweet birdie! Sing it owre and owre again; Gar the notes fa' pitter patter, Like a shower o' summer rain. "Hoot, toot, toot!" the birdie's saying, "Wha can shear the rigg that's shorn? Ye've sung brawlie simmer's ferlies, I'll toot on anither horn." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD MAN by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 3. FULL MOON by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER LAY OF THE TRILOBITE by MAY EMMA GOLDWORTH KENDALL SONNET: 71 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE FOR YOU O DEMOCRACY by WALT WHITMAN AN AUTOGRAPH (1) by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |