There in the garden, by the old wooden shed,
Sits a baby Robin, eating up some old bread.
So special was he, always in his sunday best,
Name he was known, Vic the robin red breast.
Vic needed some food, for it's so very cold,
Not use to this, for he isn't very old.
The food a banquet, for the little robin tummy,
Might be old bread, but he thinks it's yummy.
There in the garden, under layers of his wings,
Now he is full, vic so happy he sings.
His life is simple, but happy as can be,
Vic the baby robin, did come visiting to me.