Little Birds

Little birds in the tree tops,
Little birds in the firebushes,
Little birds on the high wires
Of the telephone line.
And they're talking all together,
Of the young one's first feather,
And they're singing about the weather
Because the weather is fine.

Little birds came to dinner
On the berries in the firebushes,
Little birds singing cheerily
When they all came to dine.
And they ate all the fireberries,
And they hopped into the cherry tree,
And they all sang merrily
Because the cherries were fine.

Little birds in the springtime,
Little birds in the summertime,
And they're flying and singing
As long as they may.
When the weather gets colder,
And the little ones get older
They all talk about the southland,
And they all fly away.