Parrot: Come, now, have done! we’ve heard enough from you!
Prepare to die! your little reign is o’er,
Over this house you’ll tyrannize no more!
What! won’t you come? then I’ll soon show you how!
There! stop that racket; heavens, what a row!
(Smashes the Cuckoo to bits, causing the machinery to run down.)
Help, stop it, some one!
(It stops.)
Well, upon my word,
You’re tough for such a very little bird,
I thought you’d never die! and now, my dear,
The family will very soon be here,
And when they see how little’s left of you
They’ll be so glad they won’t know what to do—
To think the Cuckoo’s killed and they are free
To work or play or sleep or take their tea
Just when they please—and, best of all, how jolly
To feel they owe it all to “Pretty Polly”!
(Curtain.)
