The towhee cries in underbrush,
Its call is sharp and clear,
The summer mornings filled with song,
Of birds we hold most dear.
The scratching at the fallen leaves,
Reveals the seeds they've stored,
A towhee crying in the heat,
Of summer being toward.
CC0 License
This song is released under CC0 (Public Domain Dedication). You may use it for any purpose, including commercially.