The Cuckoo

Oh the cuckoo
 She is a pretty bird
 She sings as she flies
 She brings us good tidings
 And she tells us no lies
 She sucks on pretty flowers
 To make her voice clear
 She never says cuckoo
 'Til the spring of the year
 Come all you young women
 Take warning by me
 Never give your affections
 To the love of a man
 For the roots they will wither
 The branches decay
 He'll turn his back on you
 And he'll walk square away
 If you do forsake me
 I'll not be forswarned
 And you'll be mistaken
 If you think that I'll mourn
 For I'll raise myself up to
 Some higher degree
 I'll walk as light by him
 As he do by me
 Oh the cuckoo
 She is a pretty bird
 She sings as she flies
 She brings us good tidings
 And she tells us no lies
 She sucks on pretty flowers
 To make her voice clear
 She never says cuckoo
 'Til the spring of the year