Little Nightingale, I hear thee sing,
Courting thy little mate, a message to bring,
Far away sounds up in the trees,
Courting thy little missy in the gentle breeze,

Little russet backs, with a buff white under part,
Singing a sweet melody for thy little sweetheart,
Possibly telling her, come I'll build a nest for thee,
In a limb up high, in a beautiful tree.

Isn't it romantic to hear him sing?
Softly sweet music he doth bring,
Filling our hearts with the tenderness of,
A little nightingale falling in love.

We listen softly to his mating call,
Fluffing feathers, to look so tall,
Just flitting and flirting all round,
Courting with flip flops down on the ground.

Soon little eggs hatching out,
And off gathering food he'll be about,
Off somewhere down in the dale,
Soon more songs from baby nightingales.

It's quite lovely to listen at night,
To the whippoorwill and the bobwhite,
But mostly my heart doth just swell,
With the beauty of the singing of the nightingale.

Copyright © Pearlie Duncan Walker

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