A Song Beyond Words

Blown by an icy wind the bird yet clings
to wintry branch, and listen how he sings ...
of joy you say? The bird would disagree.
He sings of hunger and how late will be
the nesting season if this cold should keep
the sap from rising, and the trees asleep.
He sings of ownership; although it's not
much that he owns, he'll fight to keep the lot.

Now, warm behind our window pane we sing
of love and family and joys they bring
and of our home, our country; how we'd fight
for what we own and what we see as right!
Ah, what a song we sing, we and that bird ...
the oldest song the world has ever heard.