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.
|
