The song of the robin

The old man walked down his path,
Humming the song of the robin,
The beautiful song that always made him laugh,
More then he had ever laughed with his kin.

The song filled him with joy,
He thought it gave him more joy then it gave other men
And it made him giggle like a boy,
When he was out in his garden.

He could hear it any-time and any-day,
He always loved it when the bird came,
It came most of all in may,
It picked the old man's garden because he cared, unlike his neighbours who thought it lame.

But one sad winter morning the little bird came no more,
Nor the next morning nor the one after that,
The old man cried and wanted to make death against the law,
For he new it inside him the little bird would never come back, so he went inside with a tip of his hat.