The poem
A bonny bird I found today Mired in a melt of tar; Its silky breast was silver-grey, Its wings were cinnabar. So still it lay right in the way Of every passing car.
Yet as I gently sought to pry It loose, it glared at me; You would have thought its foe was I, It pecked so viciously; So fiercely fought, as soft I sought From death to set it free.
Its pinions pitifully frail I wrested from the muck; I feared the feathers of its tail Would never come unstuck. . . . The jewel-bright it flashed in flight - Oh how I wished it luck!
With happiness my heart was light, To see how fair it flew; To do my good deed I delight, As grey-haired scouts should do; Yet oh my bright reward's to write This simple rhyme for you!