It was past five in the morning, and the birds were already singing away.

So the girl asked to walk by the river and hear the birds sing.

In late summer, some young birds will sing only a single note.

She had heard other birds sing, but nothing like this.

There, the bird sang the story of what happened to them.

Close at hand, a bird sang, and then was still.

Where he's from, the birds sing a pretty song and there's always music in the air.

High on a hill, heard a bird sing her song.

Birds sang about what they thought of it all, and the general opinion seemed to be good.

No bird ever sang in all these gardens of the dead.