Lark rising

 I am a sky lark

Trilly, trilly trilly

Burble, bible, bibble

Syllable, syllable

I am a rising sky lark

Higher and higher I soar

To match the pitch in my voice box

to call, call, call call

I am a sky lark rising

or buried down in the grass

Of field meadow

The syllable shadow

Hidden in the dark

Or rising in the morning

The trill, of billy, bibbling spark

Hear my song arising

Like a fountain in the park.