Tag Archives: #Robin


I sing for my supper,

I sing for my tea,

I sing for the joy,

of just being me.

The Robin

The Robin must eat,

and, having eaten, keep on:

Winter be beaten!

Did you see Feather Christmas?

Did you see Feather Christmas?

Robin was his name,

he bobbed along like Batman,

and played the party game;

pinnedthe tale upon the Heath,

followed Inns off to Jamaica;

he sang the songs with tones beneath

and shook the merry maker.

Lil’ Robin

lil’ Robin

with its fiery breast,

hopping in the sunshine,

feeling blessed,

pecking scraps,

a seed or two,

oh happy hoppy Robin

we so love you.

The glint of gold on a Goldfinch’s wing

The glint of gold

on a Goldfinch’s wing;

the trilling song

that a Blackbird does sing;

the cuteness overload

of a Robin’s hop;

the raucous cry

of a Jackdaw’s call;

there are many others,

but I cannot name them all.

There was a lil Robin, a-hopping in the garden

There was a lil Robin

a-hopping in the garden,

I spoke to that Robin,

I said, ‘Do you know,

that ‘garden’ rhymes with ‘pardon’?’

He looked at me,

as Robins do,

and then he flew away;

I’m sad he went,

left so soon,

I had plenty more to say.

Blurry Little Robin

Blurry Little Robin

Blurry little robin

sat on a branch;

I took a picture of him –

and it was definitely him who was blurry,

and not my picture.

The Bronze Medal Goes to…

“Hoorah! to Robin
Obviously they are fun;
And hoots are second;

But, haven’t you heard?
The Blackbird was only third!
What occurred?” he howls!