Robin's Song

Sing, Bobin Bedbreast,
Though you fill our hearts with pain
Sing, bonny Bobin,
Though our tears fall like the rain
For a Lamb far from the fold,
In the wet and wintry mould!
For a Bird out in the cold,
Bird alane! Bird alane!

Sing, Bobin Bedbreast!
You are welcome to our door;
Sing, darling Bobin,
Merry Larks no longer soar:
Autumn comes with feel of rain,
Mournful odours, wail of pain!
There's a Bird will come again
Nevermore! Nevermore!

Sing, Robin Redbreast!
For we love your song so brave,
Though you mind us of a Robin
Where the willows weep and wave:
To her little grave it clings,
Shakes the rain from its Avet wings,
And for all the sadness sings
By Her grave, by Her grave.