The birds they come most every day,from two to ten,and any number yet again;though cold and wet they feel no threath,
they get a share of what also left,their numbers grow so quick they fly,the weather is both friend and foe,cold and dry with
ease they fly,wet and windy they swoop down to place when empty,
so rapidly they take with haste,then seek some shelter by GOD'S
OWN GRACE,starlings,pigeons too,crows more cautious it's quite
true,each winter day come what may,in eagerness hope and pray,
for my meagre offerings the birds will come,to get some fare
and little crumb,until the day to-morrow come,the birds we know
are wherever from.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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