A chirp, a twitter, a flash of wings,
Four wide-open mouths in a nest;
From morning till night she brings and brings
For growing birds, they are hungry things--
Aye! hungry things at the best.
The crack of a rifle, a shot well sped;
A crimson stain on the grass;
Four hungry birds in a nest unfed--
Ah! well, we will leave the rest unsaid;
Some things it were better to pass.