Early one morning

Early one morning,

Before the sun had risen,

I heard a bluebird

In the fields gayly sing,

"South winds are blowing,

Green grass is growing,

We come to herald the merry Spring."

One Autumn afternoon,

Just as the sun was setting,

I heard a bluebird

On a tree pipe a song,

"Farewell! we're going;

Cold winds are blowing;

But we'll be back when the days grow long."