The lonesome quail sings out its song
throughout the woods and far away.
Distinctive cry of “bob, bob white,”
a sound familiar to my ears.
As the darkness fell and came to stay,
the trees stood silent to his plea,
and all the forest creatures knew
he’d be alone throughout the night.
One little sparrow said, “Dear me,
I’ll fly down there and stand beside
this poor sad bird who needs someone.”
and down to where he sat she flew.
And, thus, the quail, he never cried
in loneliness from that night on.
They stayed together through the years,
and now you know, my story’s done.
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