While pretty Cock Robin is perch’d on my twig.”
Cock Robin was tickled, and thrice chirp’d aloud,
And thrice wagg’d his tail and thrice graciously bow’d:
Then he bustled and rustled and whittled so high,
That he woke a dull owl who was dozing close by.
“Whit-a-whoo!” cried the owl, as he blink’d with surprise:
“Where is he?—this sun is too bright for my eyes.”
But a cloud passing over, as if fate was in it,
He pounced upon Robin at that very minute.
Poor Cock Robin! alas, that he should be so frail!