Low lying, in the bush n' hedges,
She picks straws and twigs,
To rest 'fore another adventure,
For the cracking of her eggs.
The Nightingale sings
Her ballad for a long stay.
Yet, there he comes
Unwilling to change his way
Walks o'er her dreams
He analysis his spark.
That night she accepts chaos,
She suppresses to sing, opposes to work.
Two moon rises hence forth
She flies to find new grain.
Dear beaver,
Don't do it again.
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