Mary had a pretty bird,
Feathers bright and yellow;
Slender legs—upon my word,
He was a pretty fellow.
The sweetest note he always sung,
Which much delighted Mary;
She often, where the cage was hung,
Sat hearing her canary.
THE CUCKOO
In April,
Come he will.
In May,
He sings all day.
In June,
He changes his tune.
In July,
He prepares to fly.