John V. A. Weaver
(With a strong note of infant brutality.)
THE WEAVER BIRD
Gosh, kid! that bird a-cheepin' in the tree
All green an' cocky—why, it might be me
Singin' to you.... Wisht I was just a bird
Bringin' you worms—aw, you know, things I've heard
'Bout me—an' flowers, maybe.... Like as not
Somebody'd get me with an old slingshot
An' I'd be dead.... Gee, it'd break you up!