15

Fifteen birds in five firtrees,
their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!
But, funny little birds, they had no wings!
O what shall we do with the funny little things?
O what shall we do with the funny little things?
Roast 'em alive, or stew them in a pot;
fry them, boil them, eat them hot?
Bake and toast 'em, fry and roast 'em!
till beards blaze, and eyes glaze;
hair smells and skins crack
fat melts, and bones
in cinders lie
beneath the sky!
So the dwarves shall...
Fifteen birds in five firtrees,
their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!
But, funny little birds, they had no wings!
O what shall we do with the funny little things?
O what shall we do with the funny little things?