In woodland green the air is rilled, with music all day long,
In Berkeley Square the Nightingale sings, a lilting, wondrous song.
But here within our prison camp, as in the City slums,
Of all our feathered friends we have, you're the only one who comes.
Not you to strut like a Peacock proud, a beautiful plumage flaunting,
No song like a Skylark fills your throat, with cadences enchanting,
But it's good to have you stay with us, in this prison.bleak and bare.
To cheer us through our darkest hours, our meagre crumbs to share
You have a freedom wider far, long since what we have known,
The vaults of heaven are your domain, and every land your own,
On soaring wings with no barriers, to pastures new you could fly,
Yet you choose to stay and be with us, captives who may live or die,
Oh! feathered friend of companionship and freedom's very soul,
'Tis felt that you are sent by God, our spirits to console,
When the guns of war are silent, may this spirit never cease,
But foster in the hearts of men, to enrich a lasting peace.