I often sit and wish that I
Could be a kite up in the sky,
And ride upon the breeze and go,
Whichever way I chanced to blow.
The March wind is calling,
"Come fly your kite!"
The wind is blowing
With all its might.
The kites are tossing
In the sky.
The wind is calling,
"Come fly up high."
Five little kites flying high in the sky
Said, "Hi!" to the cloud as it passed by,
Said, "Hi!" to the birds, said "Hi!" to the sun,
Said, "Hi!" to an airplane--oh what fun!
Then whish went the wind,
And they all took a dive:
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