The Fifteen Acres (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

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.