The parrot flew up; on a tree took high stage.
The bird that was thought dead, now swift flew away.
His course like the sun’s from the morn to midday.
The merchant sore marvelled at his flying bird;
Could not understand it; thought: “What has occurred?”
Then cried, looking upwards: “Come, pretty Poll mine!
Relate all about this freak strangest of thine.285
What was that bird’s game, there, of whom then thou spokest?
What trick was ’t he played? Grief in me thou awokest.”
The parrot him answered: “He taught me the trick.