There are two birds sitting in a nest on a tree branch
Some things can only be said here. Ready for it?
The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May, the merry bee is trampling the pinky threads all day, And the chaffinch it is brooding on its gray mossy nest, In the whitethorn bush where I will lean upon my lover's breast,
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The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May, the merry bee is trampling the pinky threads all day, And the chaffinch it is brooding on its gray mossy nest, In the whitethorn bush where I will lean upon my lover's breast,
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