112 
OUR NATIVE BIRDS 
What’s all this noise and chirping, 
Why all this attempt at rhymes? 
Now stop your trite opera ding-ding, 
Better migrate to pleasanter climes! 
I know you don’t much like me, 
But I don’t care a grasshopper toe. 
You say I steal fruit and steal berries 
And little peas, cherries, and sloe. 
You claim I frighten all beauty, 
I drive all the song birds away. 
Now, if your poor natives can’t fight me, 
Why don’t they in deep forests stay ? 
Some songster has prayed to the chaps here,— 
I never do a thing like that; 
I’m not afraid of the chaps here, 
I’m not afraid of the cat. 
Your cats and brats and whining kids 
Are all much too stupid for me. 
With sharp, stout bill and genuine wits 
We chirp away, naughty and free. 
You hate me in parks and premise ; 
Why not give me notice to quit, 
And after you give me the notice, 
Why don’t you see that I “git”? 
As soon as the season opens, 
We shall no more patiently wait, 
