Stories about Birds

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G.W. Cottrell, 1856 - Всего страниц: 96
 

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Стр. 26 - White are his shoulders and white his crest, Hear him call in his merry note: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee. Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink. Brood, kind creature; you need not fear Thieves and robbers while I am here. Chee, chee,...
Стр. 30 - Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; This new life is likely to be Hard for a gay young fellow like me. Chee, chee, chee. Robert of Lincoln at length is made Sober with work and silent with care; Off is his holiday garment laid, Half forgotten that merry air, Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Chee, chee, chee.
Стр. 31 - Robert of Lincoln at length is made Sober with work, and silent with care; Off is his holiday garment laid, Half forgotten that merry air: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Chee, chee, chee.
Стр. 25 - MERRILY swinging on brier and weed, Near to the nest of his little dame, Over the mountain-side or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name : Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Snug and safe is that nest of ours, Hidden among the summer flowers. Chee, chee, chee.
Стр. 21 - Oh, did you hear the concert This morning from our tree ? We give it every morning Just as the clock strikes three. We praise our great Creator, Whose holy love we share : Dear children, learn to praise Him too, For all his tender care.
Стр. 32 - Half forgotten that merry air: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Chee, chee, chee. Summer wanes; the children are grown; Fun and frolic no more he knows; Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone; Off he flies, and we sing as he goes: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; When you can pipe that merry old strain, Robert of Lincoln, come back again. Chee, chee, chee.
Стр. 20 - The green leaves shade our lovely home From the hot scorching sun, So many birds live in the tree We do not want for fun. The light breeze gently rocks our nest And hushes us to sleep, We're up betimes to sing our song, And the first daylight greet.
Стр. 42 - As the campanero tolls his song, And rocks the mighty tree. All crimson is her shining breast, Like to the red, red rose ; Her wing is the changeful green and blue That the neck of the peacock shows.
Стр. 94 - 0 mother ! do get him some stockings and shoes, And a nice little frock, and a hat, if he choose ; I wish he'd come into the parlor, and see How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-de.
Стр. 28 - Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Never was I afraid of man ; Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can ! Chee, chee, chee.

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