In his turn every bird of them said,
Though the nest-making art he ne’er tried
He had just such a thought in his head.
Still the pie went on showing her art,
Till a nest she had built up half-way;
She no more of her skill would impart,
But in her anger went fluttering away.
And this speech in their hearing she made,
As she perch’d o’er their heads on a tree:
“If ye all were well skill’d in my trade,