The Blackbird and the Thrush

"It's my idee," a blackbird said, As he sat in a mulberry bush, "It's my idee, it seems to me, I can warble as well as a thrush."

"Let 'er go, let 'er go," said a carrion crow, As he swung on an old clothesline, "For I won't budge, but I'll act as judge, And the winner I'll ask to dine."

In a minor key the thrush sang he, . 'Way up in an elm remote, And twice and thrice like paradise Songs welled from the warbler's throat.

Then a rooster he, in his usual glee, Flew up on the barnyard fence, And he crowed and he crowed; then he said : "I'll be blowed If that isn't simply immense."

Then the blackbird, well, he listened a spell And began in garrulous run, But he wasn't admired, for a farmer tired— Well, he up and fired a gun.

Then the black crow said, as he rested his head: "I want to go somewhere and die." And a young cock-a-too said: "I do, too," And a parrot said : "So do I."