P in the fir-tree what do we see? Birds of a feather? Do they agree? What a chirping, what a noise! Very much like girls and boys. Feather pulling, sharp short blow : Master Jack, don't eat so fast: See the pretty mother fly With her children through the sky; Like the birds up in that tree RTHUR found a linnet's nest, And brought it home to Mary; In a golden cage 'twas placed, Made for her canary. But within this little round Four small birdies clean and bright; Cried out for their dear mamma, Chirping all the night. Soon as rose the joyous sun, Brought them food, and boldly too, To feed their young ones in the room; And when evening's shadows fell, |