The weathercock turns around in circles.
He is in love with a very sweet blue tit.
He has no heart as so many humans.
The blue tit often remembers that.
Without a soul; made of steel or iron,
that not us, we pretty, little blue tits.
Submitted by Ingrid Bolam,
Harome
Updated: 10:42 Thursday, September 06, 2001
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