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10-Robin

High up in a tree, lies a nest of grass and leaves
where from an egg a little one has grown
Lying down below, a pussycat so old
On the day the little robin learns to fly

The tabby one thinks back, he was leader of a pack
whom the magpies even wouldn't dare to plague
Even old and grey, he would always have a prey
On the day the little robin learns to fly

Rustling through the trees, a cold but gentle breeze
Bristling up his fur, he rolls up in a curl
He licks a tired paw, feels aching in his bones
On the day the little robin learns to fly

Meanwhile up above, little robin hears a dove
there's a clap of wings and so it disappears
An instinct is awake, and her life is now at stake
On the day the little robin learns  to fly

She staggers to the edge, she is now completely fledged
Some trying flaps and in the air she goes
Air around her flow as she nears the shape below
On the day the little robin learns to fly

Rustling through the trees, a cold but gentle breeze
Bristling up his fur, rolled up in a curl
There's no more killing paw; he's drawn the final straw
On the day the little robin learns to fly