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Little Birdie Little birdie, little birdie Come and sing me your song. I've a short time for to be here And a long time to be gone. Little birdie, little birdie, What makes you fly so high? It's because I have a true little heart And I don't care to die. I'd rather be here, honey Than any place I know. But to help keep down trouble, Down this old road I go. Little birdie, little birdie What makes your wings so blue? It's nothing else but grieving, Grieving over you. I'd rather drink muddy water, Rather sleep in a holler log, Than to stay here, on this old river Be treated like a dirty dog. RG