Greetings, Poetry Lovers! Here we are in the middle of Poetry Month, and I have something short and sweet.
This winter, I lamented that the rose bushes at the front of our house looked gangly and scraggly. We didn't prune them as early as we had last year, and I wondered what they would look like come spring. Also, my husband had added three more little bushes beside the driveway. They weren't forlorn looking, but they were small.
One day this week, I walked out the front door and was knocked out by all the knockout roses - it's as if they all buffed up and bloomed overnight! Actually, I had been out of town a few days, and there was a fair bit of rain during that time. But it still felt like magic to me. The picture above is one of the "new" small bushes - which transformed from a teepee-like bundle of sticks and a few leaves to this!
The roses reminded me of a song my mother sang to me, from my grandmother, and that I (and my daughter) now sing to our almost two-year-old Baby Grand, Sawyer.
Was this little ditty in your family?
Little Birdie in the tree,
in the tree,
in the tree,
Little Birdie in the tree,
sing your song for me.
Sing about the roooo-ses
on the garden wall.
Little Birdie in the tree,
sing your song for me.
I also recorded myself singing this for Sawyer's Tonie Box . Do you know about those? It's a fun little box (no screen) that little ones can play songs and stories on, and there's a way to make your own recordings for them, too.
I wondered about the origin of this song and asked the Google. I found a brief entry on a Library of Congress site. The song was attributed to Ray Wood with a date in April (!) of 1939. The lyrics are a bit different, though - I'll have to ask my mother if she knows how they came to be the more pleasing version above in our family.
Here's the recorded version:
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Little birdie in the tree, in the tree, in the tree, Little birdie in the tree, Sing a song to me.
Sing about the robin, Way up in the sky; When you go out callin, Do your children cry?
(Repeat first verse)
Sung by Ray Wood, Houston, Texas, April 13, 1939.
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I didn't do a deep dive to find Ray Wood, but I couldn't find anything in the shallow end of the internet. Anybody know anything about him?
Well, I hope whatever ditties are passed down from generation to generation in your family bring a smile, and delight that blooms like April roses.
Happy Earth Day on Monday!
Our earth-loving and rosy Heidi has the Roundup today at My Juicy Little Universe, and Catherine adds a line to the Progressive Poem today over at Reading to the Core.
