I knew that phrase sounded familiar. Thanks for the lead, Rich.

WILD BIRDS
by Jan Harmon, BMI
©1986, Yksnidoroks Press, Camden, Maine, BMI

Lights flicker on in a town 'neath the mountain
Where night first comes down like a patch of black satin
And the road seems too long between Casper and Jackson
When you're tired of traveling alone.

Blackthorn and cottonwood drink up the Muddy;*
Just buckwheat and sky between Cheyenne and Cody
Like a maplewing sown under red leaves blown down
It's time to be going back home.

You cross the Wind River on your way to Big Timber;
The people are friendly, the aspen is amber.
Folks sing all the choruses they can remember,
And you sleep in a room of your own.

Blackthorn and cottonwood...

And all by the roadside the wild birds fly
Up out of the thistle and into the sky;
Red birds, black birds, they sing as they fly.
…Thank Heaven for wild birds.

They're all dressed up in feathers with colors outrageous;
They soar from this earthly-bound kingdom of cages
On delicate wings, so small and courageous.
It's time to be going back home.

Blackthorn and cottonwood...

You can see the rain coming for miles down the prairie
Like a great herd of antelope, running like fury,
And you stop at a diner outside Canyon Ferry
For coffee and a taste of the town.

Blackthorn and cottonwood...

And all by the roadside the wild birds fly
Up out of the thistle and into the sky;
Red birds, black birds, they sing as they fly.
…Thank Heaven for wild birds.

(* "The Muddy" - the Big Muddy River)
Recorded on "And So Will We Yet" by Bok, Muir, and Trickett

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