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Location: Austin, TX, United States

Scholar, Writer, Mother, Dreamer. Editor of Luminarium, an online library for English Literature of the Middle Ages and Renaissance.

Monday, April 23, 2007

The Parliament of Fowles

Spring and summer turn their rounds,
My garden fills with birds;
In their cacophony of sounds
I think I spy some words:

Go to bed, Go to bed, Go to bed!
                            We whoo, whoo?
       You, chit-wit! You, chit-wit!
                     Me-ee? Me-ee?
       You, chick-chick! You, chick-chick.
              Nyaah, Nyaah!
       Chicka-chicka, chit-wit!
              Nyaah, Nyaah!
Go to bed, Go to bed, Go to bed!
                     Do-oo-it, Do-oo-it!
              Naah, nah-nah, Naah, naah!
       Chicka-chicka.
                            Eejit!
              Hahahaha, hehehe!
                     Do-oo-it, Do-oo-it!
                            We whoo, whoo?
Go to bed, Go to bed, Go to bed!

And if I've missed what they have sung
—This bruit made by them—
That nightingale, the hundred-tongue,
Plays it back at 4 a.m.
 

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1 Comments:

Blogger SzélsőFa said...

Was it you who committed it? Excellent.

When we moved to our present house, which has a garden with lots of trees, we had the chance to listen to real birds.
We figured the blackbird sings 'biobagett, biobagett, biofű, fű, fűűű' - organic baquette, organic baquette, organic grass, grass, graaaasss

April 23, 2007 11:29 AM  

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