All through the night there's a little brown bird singing,
Singing in the hush of the darkness and the dew.
Would that his song through the stillness could go winging,
Could go winging to you,
To you.
All through the night-time my lonely heart is singing
Sweeter songs of love than the brown bird ever knew.
Would that the song of my heart could go a-winging,
Could go a-winging to you,
To you.
