Glad to see you, little bird;
'Twas your little chirp I heard:
What did you intend to say?
"Give me something this cold day"?
That I will, and plenty, too;
All the crumbs I saved for you.
Don't be frightened—here's a treat:
I will wait and see you eat.
Shocking tales I hear of you;
Chirp, and tell me, are they true?
Robbing all the summer long;
Don't you think it very wrong?
Thomas says you steal his wheat;
John complains, his plums you eat—
Choose the ripest for your share,
Never asking whose they are.
But I will not try to know
What you did so long ago:
There's your breakfast, eat away;
Come to see me every day.