Old Poets have call'd her Philomel,
But Philomelus, he sings best,
While she sits listening in her nest.
Darting Martin!—tell me why
They call you Martin, I know not, I;
Martin the black, under cottage eaves,
Martin the small, in sandy caves.
Merry Willy Wagtail, what runs he takes!
Wherever he stops, his tail he shakes.
Head and tail little Jenny Wren perks,