  Scene: The vicinity of the Cuckoo Clock. Cuckoo discovered in the act of telling three o’clock. Parrot watching from a perch near by. Cuckoo: Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Parrot: Hark, there she goes! To hear her any parrot would suppose She owned the earth, conceited little thing, She really seems to fancy she can sing, Yet, though you’ll scarce believe, that little bird Rules the whole blessed household with a word. She only has to call “Cuckoo!” and lo! When she screams “Cuckoo!” twice it is the rule For all the kids to hurry back to school— And when six times they know it is a sign That Cuckoo thinks it’s time for them to dine. And so it goes through all the livelong day, She tells them what to do and they obey. But as for me, they treat me like a doll And mimic me and call me “Pretty Poll,” And ask me several million times a day, “Does Polly want a cracker?”—by the way, I’ve yet to see that cracker—oh, sometimes I gnash my beak, or mutter nursery rhymes Or anything! for fear I should let slip The wicked words they taught me on the ship, Those naughty sailors, when long, long ago They brought me from the land where spices grow And palm-trees wave, and Cuckoos do not rule And tell folks when to bed and when to school And when to go to dinner. Never mind! My time will come. As that vain bird will find Unto her sorrow. Yes, the die is cast! Next time the Cuckoo squawks will be her last. Next time she tries— Cuckoo (striking four o’clock): Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Parrot: Come, now, have done! we’ve heard enough from you! Prepare to die! your little reign is o’er, Over this house you’ll tyrannize no more! What! won’t you come? then I’ll soon show you how! There! stop that racket; heavens, what a row! (Smashes the Cuckoo to bits, causing the machinery to run down.) Help, stop it, some one! (It stops.) Well, upon my word, You’re tough for such a very little bird, I thought you’d never die! and now, my dear, The family will very soon be here, And when they see how little’s left of you They’ll be so glad they won’t know what to do— To think the Cuckoo’s killed and they are free To work or play or sleep or take their tea Just when they please—and, best of all, how jolly To feel they owe it all to “Pretty Polly”! (Curtain.) |
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