Alas! still faithful to his back
The pigtail hangs behind him.
THE POOR LITTLE BIRDIES
By A. J. Waterhouse
The poor little birdies that sleep in the trees,
Going rockaby, rockaby, lulled by the breeze;
The poor little birdies, they make me feel bad,
Oh, terribly, dreadfully, dismally sad,
For—think of it, little one; ponder and weep—
The birdies must stand when they sleep, when they sleep;