The Song of the Snow-Bird” was an extremely popular song: it appeared originally in the Sunday School Advocate and was reprinted in Youth’s Companion before appearing in Robert Merry’s Museum. Francis C. Woodworth was the editor of Woodworth’s Youth’s Cabinet; after it merged with the Museum, he joined its editorial staff, which included Susanna Newbould (“Aunt Sue”).
“The Song of the Snow-Bird,” words by Francis C. Woodworth; music by Susanna Newbould (from Robert Merry’s Museum, January 1858; pp. 22-24)
music for Song of the Snow-Bird

The ground was all covered with snow one day,

And two little sisters were busy at play,

When a snow-bird was sitting close by on a tree,

And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de,

Chick-a-de-de, chick-a-de-de.

And merrily singing his chick-a-de-de.

He had not been singing that tone very long,

Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song;

“O sister! look out of the window!” said she;

“Here’s a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de-de.

Chick-a-de-de, etc.

“Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet,

And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet;

I pity him so! how cold he must be!

And yet he keeps singing his chicka-de-de.

Chick-a-de-de, etc.

If I were a barefooted snow-bird, I know

I would not stay out in the cold and the snow.

I wonder what makes him so full of his glee;

He’s all the time singing that chick-a-de-de.

Chick-a-de-de, etc.

“O mother! do get him some stockings and shoes,

A nice little frock, and a hat, if he choose;

I wish he’d come into the parlor, and see

How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-de.”

Chick-a-de-de, etc.

The bird had flown down for some pieces of bread,

And heard every word little Emily said;

“How queer I would look in that dress!” thought he;

And he laughed, as he warbled his chick-a-de-de.

Chick-a-de-de, etc.

“I thank you,” he said, “for the wish you express;

But I’ve no occasion for such a fine dress;

I would rather remain with my limbs all free,

Than to hobble about, singing chick-a-de-de.

Chick-a-de-de, etc.

“There is ONE, my dear child, though I can not tell who,

Has clothed me already, and warm enough, too.

Good-morning! O who are so happy as we?”

And away he went, singing his chick-a-de-de.

Chick-a-de-de, etc.

Copyright 1999-2024, Pat Pflieger
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