The Catbird

Orchard, meadow and garden through

You follow me with your cry—

Half a bird-call, half a mew.

What makes you tease me? Why?

Whether I listen or notice you

I know your bright black eye

Is watching me the branches through,

Why do you watch me? Why?

Who laugh at the curious things I do,

You cannot sing or fly,

Balance myself upon the blue,

Or climb the heights of sky,

And it isn't at all polite of you,

Catbird, but don't deny

You think I'm stupid. Yes, you do!

Well, Catbird, so do I!