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.