Brazeau, Alberta
There it goes the midnight thrill!
A white-throat's song that breaks the chill
At this late hour, what's its will?
Why oh why does he sing still?
No other singers, no other trill
No snipe or wolf, or whip-poor-will
can be heard from this spruce hill
Why oh why does he sing still?
Is song a sparrow's sleeping pill?
Is he lonely, is he ill?
Or has he simply the night to kill?
Why oh why does he sing still?
In north woods nights, dark and tranquil
To ready ears, from his small bill
Relax and enjoy the midnight thrill
And worry not why, that he sings still
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