Naughty Birdie's song is made by pecking holes in trees willows, cedars, sycamores and proud oaks reduced to cheese woodland gods, all in a huff have forever cursed your naughty beak what it pecks, it poisons now; your food, your nest even your young your friends now all fear you But your tears ring clearly through the wood even as they taint the dew such a sad, sad, little birdy Maybe one day this song will lift the curse and set you free.