The Yellow Robin

I'm the friendliest of them all,
When winter comes;
Daily at your door I call
Begging crumbs.
Clinging sideways to a stake,
Eloquent appeal I make.
'Spare a scrap for pity's sake!
This cold air numbs.'

I will follow as you dig
And search the dirt.
Worms or bettles, small or big,
Are my dessert;
And, should you seem gently kind,
From your hand I do not mind
Taking anything you find;
But I'm a flirt.

For when spring comes to the land
You are forgot.
I have great affairs on hand
As days wax hot.
Should I pass you, I pretend
To ignore my winter's friend;
Intimacy's at an end;
I know you not.

Yet, when winter comes once more,
And summer ends,
You will find me at your door
To make amends;
Clinging sideways to a stake,
Eloquent appeal I'll make:
'Spare a scrap for pity's sake!
Aw, let's be friends!'

'The Yellow Tailed Thornbill'

I'm a fussy little fellow
In my kilt of glowing yellow;
As about the garden ways I bow and bend.
Many a melody I bring you,
In the soft, gay songs I sing you
With a cheery little grace-note at the end
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, I never miss that grace-note at the end.

Summer into autumn passes,
And among the rippening grasses,
'Mid the midges, goodly provender I gain.
Little for your presence caring,
Confident and greatly daring,
I will charn you with a sudden, sweet refrain
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, a very soft, yet valiant refrain.

When the time has come for nesting,
Our sagacity attesting,
We erect a neat, twin-chambered bow'r of love;
Mother in the nursery sleeping
With the babes, while sentry keeping,
Father has his parlor-bedroom up above
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, it's cosier - and quieter above.

In my kilt of golden yellow
I'm a friendly little fellow,
And my spangled sable crown I proudly bear.
Tho' my way be meek and lowly,
I can capture, win you wholly
If you'll listen to this cheerful little air
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, I'll charm you with my cheerful little air.