Return Of The Lapwing
It's been years don't know how long nor i'll not lie
And that's going back to when i was a boy
When last i saw the wandering bird lapwing
One cold and windy day in early Spring.
With dark wings and white breasts strange type of birds thought i
And i asked old man farmer passing by
What breed of bird are they with cuck on head?
'Why' those are lapwing little boy he said.
And added wise man bent from years of toil
I have not seen these birds for quite some while
And they only come in weather most severe
And strange to see them at this time of year.
So many years gone by since that March day
And mean while old man farmer passed away
And flame of memory rekindle and burn
And brightly glow at migrant birds return.
Their distinct notes peewit, peewit, pee wee
All down those years etched in my memory
But will i too like old man be gone to ground
On the next time that the lapwing call around.
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