Als antwoord op de zomerquizvraag van 18 juli 2017 schreven diverse lezers me
dat ze dachten aan een wevervogel. Dat riep bij Mirjam Kuitenbrouwer herinneringen op
aan een prachtig, gevoelig liedje van Molly Drake uit de jaren vijftig.

Little weaver bird
Sitting sadly in the tree
Take my good advice
And forget your misery
Your tears are all in vain
And regret can be absurd
Little weaver bird
Get weaving

The year is going by
And the season’s getting on
Don’t you think it’s time
To build yourself a home
She blinked her brilliant eye
I don’t even think she heard
Little weaver bird
Get weaving

Your children will arrive
And expect a downy bed
For everything alive
Needs a place to lay its head
She looked at me and sighed
But she never said a word
Little weaver bird
Get weaving

Oh I can sympathise with a heart that is distressed
But every bird who’s wise will build herself a nest
She looked at me and sighed
Then a miracle occurred
The little weaver bird
Got weaving.