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Song of the Mockingbird
Over the mountains, and in the lowlands of the South,
the Mockingbird's song is heard,
So melodious and melancholy his tune,
sung by this marvelous and endearing grey bird.
He tells of times so long ago, the red men hunted there,
then life was pure, and revered, by all to be so grand.
The warbling message is well received,
by listeners in the woods, and all across the land.
Men came to build log homes, then chopping down the trees,
as many terrible changes soon began,
A wasteful squandering of natural things, left in their wake,
and the wrongdoing of their hands.
Once beautiful deer and wild things roamed,
and lived under the warmth of the sun,
Now all seemed lost amid smoke filled skies,
such carelessness and a spoiling had begun.
Hear the mournful song the wild bird to repeat,
it fills our ears, and then to resonate there,
An unhappy dirge of the times he's seen,
as in his witness, and in sadness, we all share.
The accompanying thrush and whippoorwill join in,
to form their symphony of remorse,
What lies ahead for all of mankind, if not a change,
and then to set a new course?
Despite his anguish in what he has beheld,
over the years and in happier times long past,
The small grey Mocking Bird adds his fine voice,
still so staunch and enduring, his to last.
The sun still shines over the green meadows there,
and a gentle wind sways the tall trees,
A song of hope is what he now sings,
as in his flight a spirit soars, and as time flees.
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