I'm a fussy little fellow
In my kilt of glowing yellow;
As about the garden ways I bow and bend.
Many a melody I bring you,
In the soft, gay songs I sing you
With a cheery little grace-note at the end
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, I never miss that grace-note at the end.

Summer into autumn passes,
And among the rippening grasses,
'Mid the midges, goodly provender I gain.
Little for your presence caring,
Confident and greatly daring,
I will charn you with a sudden, sweet refrain
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, a very soft, yet valiant refrain.

When the time has come for nesting,
Our sagacity attesting,
We erect a neat, twin-chambered bow'r of love;
Mother in the nursery sleeping
With the babes, while sentry keeping,
Father has his parlor-bedroom up above
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, it's cosier - and quieter above.

In my kilt of golden yellow
I'm a friendly little fellow,
And my spangled sable crown I proudly bear.
Tho' my way be meek and lowly,
I can capture, win you wholly
If you'll listen to this cheerful little air
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, I'll charm you with my cheerful little air.