Twenty Little Chickadees

Twenty little chickadees,

Sitting in a row;

Twenty pairs of naked feet

Buried in the snow.

I should think you'd fly away

Where the weather's warm,

Then you wouldn't have to be

Out there in the storm.

Sorry little chickadees,

Don't you know the way?

Can't you find the road to go

Where 'tis always May?

Robins all have found it out,

Wrens and bluebirds too,

Don't you wish you'd thought to ask

Ere away they flew?