Little Birds Analysis

Little Birds are dining

Warily and well,

Hid in mossy cell:

Hid, I say, by waiters

Gorgeous in their gaiters -

I've a Tale to tell.



Little Birds are feeding

Justices with jam,

Rich in frizzled ham:

Rich, I say, in oysters

Haunting shady cloisters -

That is what I am.



Little Birds are teaching

Tigresses to smile,

Innocent of guile:

Smile, I say, not smirkle -

Mouth a semicircle,

That's the proper style!



Little Birds are sleeping

All among the pins,

Where the loser wins:

Where, I say, he sneezes

When and how he pleases -

So the Tale begins.



Little Birds are writing

Interesting books,

To be read by cooks:

Read, I say, not roasted -

Letterpress, when toasted,

Loses its good looks.



Little Birds are playing

Bagpipes on the shore,

Where the tourists snore:

"Thanks!" they cry. "'Tis thrilling!

Take, oh take this shilling!

Let us have no more!"



Little Birds are bathing

Crocodiles in cream,

Like a happy dream:

Like, but not so lasting -

Crocodiles, when fasting,

Are not all they seem!



Little Birds are choking

Baronets with bun,

Taught to fire a gun:

Taught, I say, to splinter

Salmon in the winter -

Merely for the fun.



Little Birds are hiding

Crimes in carpet-bags,

Blessed by happy stags:

Blessed, I say, though beaten -

Since our friends are eaten

When the memory flags.



Little Birds are tasting

Gratitude and gold,

Pale with sudden cold:

Pale, I say, and wrinkled -

When the bells have tinkled,

And the Tale is told.

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