<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"></SPAN></p>
<h2> "FIDDLE-DEE-DEE" </h2>
<p>There once was a bird that lived up in a tree,<br/>
And all he could whistle was "Fiddle-dee-dee"—<br/>
A very provoking, unmusical song<br/>
For one to be whistling the summer day long!<br/>
Yet always contented and busy was he<br/>
With that vocal recurrence of "Fiddle-dee-dee."<br/>
Hard by lived a brave little soldier of four,<br/>
That weird iteration repented him sore;<br/>
"I prithee, Dear-Mother-Mine! fetch me my gun,<br/>
For, by our St. Didy! the deed must be done<br/>
That shall presently rid all creation and me<br/>
Of that ominous bird and his 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"<br/>
Then out came Dear-Mother-Mine, bringing her son<br/>
His awfully truculent little red gun;<br/>
The stock was of pine and the barrel of tin,<br/>
The "bang" it came out where the bullet went in—<br/>
The right kind of weapon I think you'll agree<br/>
For slaying all fowl that go "Fiddle-dee-dee"!<br/>
The brave little soldier quoth never a word,<br/>
But he up and he drew a straight bead on that bird;<br/>
And, while that vain creature provokingly sang,<br/>
The gun it went off with a terrible bang!<br/>
Then loud laughed the youth—"By my Bottle," cried he,<br/>
"I've put a quietus on 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"<br/>
Out came then Dear-Mother-Mine, saying: "My son,<br/>
Right well have you wrought with your little red gun!<br/>
Hereafter no evil at all need I fear,<br/>
With such a brave soldier as You-My-Love here!"<br/>
She kissed the dear boy.<br/>
(The bird in the tree<br/>
Continued to whistle his "Fiddle-dee-dee")<br/></p>
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