The way I feel is like a robin whose babes have flown to come no more.
A tall oak tree alone and crying when the birds have flown and the nest is bare.
Now a woman, Lord, is like a young bird and the tall oak tree is a young man's heart.
Among its boughs you'll find her nesting, when the nights are cool she's warm and dry.
Your coat of green, will protect her. Her wings will grow, your love will too.
But all too soon your mighty branches will cease to hold her she'll fly from you.

The way I feel is like a robin whose babes have flown to come no more.
A tall oak tree alone and crying when the birds have flown and the nest is bare.
When the birds have flown and the nest is bare.