BOB WHITE
He sits on a branch and calls to me,
He knows I love him so.
He darts about from limb to limb,
Moving to and fro.
The other birds
Don’t seem to care,
They fly from on their perch;
But when the blue jay does appear,
All others seem to fear.
Bob White stops and stands quite still,
Bob waits for him to flee.
Then when all is safe again,
Bob White says to me,
Hey look this way, it’s me you see,
I’m hiding by this tree!
Written by Kathryn Neff Perry
COPYRIGHT 2008
© All rights reserved.
Mary