Chickadee

Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee! That was the song that he sang to me--Sang from his perch in the willow tree-- Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee. My little brown bird, The song that I heard Was a happier song than the minstrels sing-- A paean of joy and a carol of spring; And my heart leaped throbbing and sang with thee Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.

My birdie looked wise With his little black eyes, As he peeked and peered from his perch at me With a throbbing throat and a flutter of glee, As if he would say-- Sing trouble away, Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.

Only one note From his silver throat; Only one word From my wise little bird; But a sweeter note or a wiser word From the tongue of mortal I never have heard, Than my little philosopher sang to me From his bending perch in the willow tree-- Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.

Come foul or fair, Come trouble and care-- No--never a sigh Or a thought of despair! For my little bird sings in my heart to me, As he sang from his perch in the willow tree-- Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee dee: Chickadee-dee, chickadee-dee; Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.