Young bird,
Early bird,
Calling out his mates.
Saw him twice,
Saw him trice,
On my garden bench.
I smiled with glee,
With friendly voice
And a new-found me,
“Good morn, little friend”
I said,
“How glorious it is to be free!”
Early bird
Chirped again,
Ruffled his feathers,
And dropped a turd,
And off he went
'Till his chirps could no more be heard.
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