I Cling And Swing On A Branch, Or Sing Through The Cool, Clear Hush Of Morning, O: Or Fling My Wing On The Air, And Bring To Sleepier Birds A Warning, O: That The Night'S In Flight, And The Sun'S In Sight, And The Dew Is The Grass Adorning, O: And The Green Leaves Swing As I Sing, Sing, Sing, Up By The River, Down The Dell, To The Little Wee Nest, Where The Big Tree Fell, So Early In The Morning, O. I Flit And Twit In The Sun For A Bit When His Light So Bright Is Shining, O: Or Sit And Fit My Plumes, Or Knit Straw Plaits For The Nest'S Nice Lining, O: And She With Glee Shows Unto Me Underneath Her Wings Reclining, O: And I Sing That Peg Has An Egg, Egg, Egg, Up By The Oat-Field, Round The Mill, Past The Meadow, Down The Hill, So Early In The Morning, O. I Stoop And Swoop On The Air, Or Loop Through The Trees, And Then Go Soaring, O To Group With A Troop On The Gusty Poop While The Wind Behind Is Roaring, O: I Skim And Swim By A Cloud'S Red Rim And Up To The Azure Flooring, O: And My Wide Wings Drip As I Slip, Slip, Slip Down Through The Rain-Drops, Back Where Peg Broods In The Nest On The Little White Egg, So Early In The Morning, O.