While riding today on my swing,
Heard a song, started to sing.
Beatles click and chirping bird,
An outside song, inside not heard.
In the wood wind blows through the trees.
Back-up came from buzzing bees.
The babbling brook played the rhythm.
Over smooth stones the waters strum.
Keeping the beat atop his log,
Bass was played by a croaking frog.
It’s nature’s band with me to sing.
Soaring high on my backyard swing.