Dark comes down like a bird in flight
Most good people have gone to rest
But us poor folk who wake at night
When we’re lonely we sing our best

Listen and hark, out in the dark
A mockingbird in the tall oak tree
Busts his throat on a high sweet note
Nobody knows he’s there but me

He sings his best when nobody’s listening
Nobody’s listening

Night comes on like a heron’s wing
Honeysuckle is in the air
That’s when I like to sit and sing
Nobody listens but I don’t care

Out in the swamp by a firefly lamp
An old frog fiddles his double bass
Over the hill a whip-poor-will
Sings her note from a secret place

She sings her best when nobody’s listening
Nobody’s listening