Now I think of it, I have in one of the storerooms of my memory, a song about the snow-bird.  It is rather simple and childish—­possibly too much so for boys and girls of your age.  However, as we are somewhat musical just now, after talking so much about birds, and are greatly in want of a song, I will sing this about Emily and the Snow-Bird, and you may join in the chorus, if you like.

SONG OF THE SNOW-BIRD.

I.
  The ground was all cover’d with snow one day,
  And two little sisters were busy at play,
  When a snow-bird was sitting close by on a tree,
  And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de,
  Chick-a-de-de, Chick-a-de-de,
  And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de.

[Illustration:  THE SISTERS AND THE SNOW-BIRD]

II.

  He had not been singing that tune very long,
  Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song.—­
  “O sister! look out of the window,” said she;
  “Here’s a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de-de. 
          Chick-a-de-de, &c.

III.

  “Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet,
  And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet;
  I pity him so! how cold he must be! 
  And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-de. 
          Chick-a-de-de, &c.

IV.

  “If I were a barefooted snow-bird, I know
  I would not stay out in the cold and the snow.—­
  I wonder what makes him so full of his glee;
  He’s all the time singing that chick-a-de-de. 
          Chick-a-de-de, &c.

V.

  “O mother! do get him some stockings and shoes,
  And a nice little frock, and a hat, if he choose;
  I wish he’d come into the parlor, and see
  How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-de.” 
          Chick-a-de-de, &c.

VI.

  The bird had flown down for some pieces of bread,
  And heard every word little Emily said;
 “How queer I would look hi that dress!” thought he;
  And he laughed, as he warbled his chick-a-de-de. 
          Chick-a-de-de, &c.

VII.

  “I’m grateful,” he said, “for the wish you express,
  But I’ve no occasion for such a fine dress;
  I had rather remain with my limbs all free,
  Than to hobble about, singing chick-a-de-de. 
          Chick-a-de-de, &c.

VIII.

“There is ONE, my dear child, tho’ I cannot tell who,
Has clothed me already, and warm enough too—­
Good morning!  O, who are so happy as we?”—­
And away he went, singing his chick-a-de-de. 

                Chick-a-de-de, &c.