The robin is the rockstar of the birds
from there upon his stage up in the trees,
belting out his lyrics without words,
he's pleasing all the ladies with such ease.
The chickadees back him up with their chatter;
the windy pines add choir to the song;
the woodpecker pounds out a rhythmic clatter.
This music entertains me all day long.
Pretty lady birdies come a-flockin',
but, robin, you don't care that you're a star.
Your soulful ballads keep us all a-rockin'.
But you're just singing 'cause that's who you are.
But while the robin's wooing, here am I,
without a song as pretty girls go by.
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