I would not be the tomtit's mate,

For, even if I were not late,

It seems as though he'd gird at me,

Saying, "Quick, quick," eternally.

The chaffinch you would never think

Was much addicted to strong drink,

Yet all the Spring you'll hear him say, "Oh,

There's cheaper beer in County Mayo."

The jay, whatever he is after,

Makes the woods ring with ribald laughter;

"Hee, hee, ha, ha," he says, and then

"Ha, ha, hee, hee, ha, ha," again.

The plover over fields brown red

Weeps for her children who are dead;

Still day and night she cries to you,

"Mes pauvres petits! La grande charrue!"

So silently the screech-owl flies

You sometimes scarce believe your eyes,

Until you start to hear him shout

To timid mice, "Come out! Come out!"

Are baby martins in the nest

With extra-loving parents blest?

That they should murmur sleepily,

"Oh cuddle me, oh cuddle me."

When first the chiff-chaff comes your way

You're glad, it means Spring's come to stay;

But soon you wish he'd change his song

With his "Chiff-chaff, chiff-chaff" all day long.

Those white-throats in the raspberry canes!

They never take the slightest pains

To hide from you how much they steal,

But say, "Thief, thief," throughout their meal.