“Parrot!” said I, “bird of evil! parrot still, or bird or devil!
By the piper who the Israelitish leader played before,
I will stand this chaff no longer! We will see now which is stronger.
Come, now,—off! Thy cage is open—free thou art, and there’s the door!
Off at once, and I’ll forgive thee;—take the hint, and leave my door.”
But the parrot only swore.
And the parrot never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the very self-same perch where first he sat in days of yore;
And his only occupations seem acquiring imprecations
Of the last and freshest fashion, which he picks up by the score;