Fly high
Little bird, fly high
The winds art with thou
Fly strong and true
Even though hills and woods
Seem they however comely
In all their might and glory
But thou, little bird,
Are made for the gale
To soar over the vale
And transcend
So fly high little bird
The winds art with thou
Fly strong and true
The hawks who hunt thou,
The hail that pelts thou,
Do not stoppeth thee
From soaring high and true.
For thee, O mighty bird
Art an emblem of god's acumen
And a touch of his matchless potency.
Soar high, O mighty bird
As the earth bound masses
Stare at thine divine flight
With awe and ambition
Thou art meant to soar higher
And reach the stars, to rest finally
At the top of lord's creation
For there's thine seat
And thine merit, earned with all right.
Fly higher, mighty bird
For there lie things untouched
By any mortal of thine realm
For thou art the Columbus
And art to surpass,
The legend bards sing about
Thine legacy
Fly high, little bird
Thou art meant to ascend.
For there art no limits
To the might of thine wings.
The winds art with thou
Fly strong and true.
