The Cuckoo is a tell-tale,
A mischief-making bird;
She flies to East, she flies to West
And whispers into every nest
The wicked things she's heard;
She loves to spread her naughty lies;
She laughs about it as she flies:
"Cuckoo," she cries, "cuckoo, cuckoo,
It's true, it's true."
And when the fairies catch her
Her busy wings they dock,
They shut her up for evermore
(She may not go beyond the door)
Inside a German clock;
Inside a wooden clock she cowers
And has to tell the proper hours--
"Cuckoo," she cries, "cuckoo, cuckoo,
It's true, it's true."