The parrot sits, upon his perch.
Wrapped in gloomy thought.
And dreams. Of his distant home.
His wings of bright blue; are clipped.
From his red beak, come words of wisdom.
Will then never never, unlatch his cage.
And set him free once more?
Inpatient, in anger
He claws and tears at his perch.
To which he has clung, so long.
Will the world of men, not pity him.
And freedom, he has lost?
Of what use to him in prison.
In his coat of wondrous hue.
