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Blackbirds - text

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Four and twenty blackbirds perched o'er the milhaus floor
Four and twenty blackbirds perched o'er the milhaus floor
Watching a pair of blackbirds, a pair of blackbirds more
Four and twenty blackbirds perched o'er the milhaus floor
One blackbird to the other, "you must be my queen,"
Said one blackbird to the other, "say, say, say you must be my queen"
Well, the other replied in turn, "well, sure enough you my king"
Four and twenty blackbirds and two began to sing
The queen she sang of milhaus rising to the sky
The king he sang of riches baked in a honey pie
Stick your finger in and taste it on the sly
Sing a song of sixpence and a pocketful of rye
The queen she asked that question, "what makes the milhaus rare?"
The king replied in turn, "well, tonight it's you so fair"
Four and twenty blackbirds too baked themselves to care
Fly away you dainty dish, two blackbirds flew upstairs
When that sun had risen, the rhyming it was through
When that sun had risen, yeah, yeah the rhyming it was through
Four and twenty blackbirds had rhymed that whole night through
Fly away two blackbirds with nothing left to prove
Now you count that blackbird lucky who first to fly away
Bitter that taste left behind and the lonesome heart astray
Pity not that blackbird, the blackbird who must stay
For having tasted blackbird pie, baked and on display
Four and twenty blackbirds
Four and twenty blackbirds perched o'er the milhaus floor
Watching a pair
Watching a pair of blackbirds
Watching a pair of blackbirds
Pair of blackbirds more

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