The Yellow Bittern

The yellow bittern that never broke out

In a drinking bout might as well have drunk

His bones are thrown on a naked stone

Where he lived alone like a hermit monk

Oh yellow bittern, I pity your lot

Though they say that a sot like myself is cursed

I was sober a while, but I'll drink and be wise

For fear I should die in the end of thirst

It's not for the common birds that I'd mourn

The blackbird, the corncrake or the crane

But for the bittern that's shy and apart

And drinks in the marsh from the lone bog drain

Oh if I had known you were near your death

While my breath held out I'd have run to you

'Til a splash from the Lake of the Son of the Bird

Your soul would have stirred and waked anew

My darling told me to drink no more

Or my life would be o'er in a little short while

But I told her 'tis drink gives me health and strength

And will lengthen my road by many a mile

You see how the bird of the long smooth neck

Could get his death from the thirst at last

Come, son of my soul, and drink your cup

For you'll get no sup when your life is past