Once heard a voice that one should not get wrong
The gray shrike thrush familiar in his song
His soft clear whistle with you does remain
Once heard a voice you recognize again
Not the prettiest of birds to look at one can say
Though distinctive in their feathers of brown and gray
Quite close to tame in their confiding way
Birds i know of though i do not see every day
Since they do need trees from predators to hide
On woodland borders they like to reside
They can be heard at anytime of year
And their flute like songs are pleasant for to hear
Of blackbird size they are widely known
Since they possess a charm of their own.
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