Shine, little red bird, shine.
The glass of the window pane is bright, but
Nothing compares to the light
Reflecting off the stained glass of your back.

Little love, little bird,
Let the words that swarm around your heart be warm.
Lovely love, lovely bird,
May the worm be up to meet you in the morn.
May the spring day four months from now
Be warm.

Sing, little white bird, sing.
The wood off the balcony is singed, so
Only the gloss on your wings
Is too dove-like to be believed.

Little love, little bird,
Let the words that swarm around your heart be warm.
Lovely love, lovely bird,
May the worm be up to meet you in the morn.
May the summer night six months from now
Be warm.