Bertie Blackman White Owl
My white owl
He has so many faces
Inside in different places
He wants to go
My white owl
His feathers are so icy
They are sharp
They cut through anything at all
He loves to run
And he loves to run
And he loves to run
My owl he loves to fly
but he was born to run
my white owl
he not a bed time story
you never see him souring over you, over you
my white owl
he is a wide eyed hero
you might catch him with hunger
every breath inside
He loves to run
And he loves to run
And he loves to run
My owl he loves to fly
but he was born to run
but He loves to run
And he loves to run
And he loves to run
My owl he hates to fly
but he was loves to run
