Atop a tree, a blackbird sings
Alone, a simple melody
The tune that carries on the wind
Soon lost amongst the apple trees
Beneath the trees, in muddy pond
There lives a little slimy frog
It croaks a tune for all to hear
So proud upon a rotting log
And robins land on bushes too
When perched, they have their tunes to sing
And each is louder than before
Each one a little joy to bring
