My wife had a male canary
Just as bright as he could be.
He'd sing and call, and yell at you
Wherever you might be.
He sang solo all his life
His songs gave a special thrill.
He could always make your day
With a brilliant warbling trill.
His name was simply Charlie Bird.
His feathers: white and yellow.
His mood was always full of joy.
He was a very happy fellow.
One day Charlie started shaking,
And he could no longer sing.
We tried new herbs and medicines,
But he never flapped a wing.
Then one day he looked at me.
I knew what he tried to say.
He wasn't long for this old world,
And he died that very day.
He laid out flat upon his back;
A soldier's stance: head high.
Back-braced he lay: legs down straight.
Now only his soul could fly.
He didn't have any babies,
And he never had a mate,
But he gave us timeless happiness;
On that we can't debate.
Now Charlie Bird is a memory,
And still we miss him so.
Now he's buried, high on a hill,
Where the misty wild-winds blow.