"Bird," said the shoemaker, "now sing me that song again."
"No," replied the bird, "I do not sing twice for nothing; you must give me something."
"Wife," said the man, "go to the garret: on the highest shelf there stands a pair of red shoes—bring them here."
The wife went and fetched the shoes.
"There," said the man, "now sing me that song again."
Then the bird came and took the shoes in his left claw and flew back on the roof, and sang—
"My mother, she killed me;
My father, he ate me;
My sister, little Margery,
Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!"
And when he had finished, he flew away, with the chain in his right claw and the shoes in his left. He flew far away to a mill, and the mill went "Clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper." And in the mill there sat twenty millers, who chopped a stone, and chopped, "Hick, hack, hick, hack, hick, hack;" and the mill went, "Clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper."
The bird flew up, and sat in a lime-tree that grew before the mill, and sang—
"My mother, she killed me;"