Oh! I Wish I Were A Tiny Browny Bird From Out The South, Settled Among The Alder-Holts, And Twittering By The Stream; I Would Put My Tiny Tail Down, And Put Up My Tiny Mouth, And Sing My Tiny Life Away In One Melodious Dream. I Would Sing About The Blossoms, And The Sunshine And The Sky, And The Tiny Wife I Mean To Have In Such A Cosy Nest; And If Some One Came And Shot Me Dead, Why Then I Could But Die, With My Tiny Life And Tiny Song Just Ended At Their Best. Eversley, 1873