What do you think Red Robin <br />Found by a mow of hay? <br />Why, a flask brimful of liquor, <br />That the mowers brought that day <br />To slake their thirst in the hayfield. <br />And Robin he shook his head: <br />'Now, I wonder what they call it, <br />And how it tastes?' he said. <br /> <br /> <br />'I have seen the mowers drink it- <br />Why isn't it good for me? <br />So I'll just draw out the stopper <br />And get at the stuff, and see!' <br />But alas! for the curious Robin, <br />One draught, and he burned his throat <br />From his bill to his poor crop's lining, <br />And he could not utter a note. <br /> <br /> <br />And his head grew light and dizzy, <br />And he staggered left and right, <br />Tipped over the flask of brandy, <br />And spilled it, every mite. <br />But after awhile he sobered, <br />And quietly flew away, <br />And he never has tasted liquor, <br />Or touched it, since that day. <br /> <br /> <br />But I heard him say to his kindred. <br />In the course of a friendly chat, <br />'These men think they are above us, <br />Yet they drink such stuff as that! <br />Oh, the poor degraded creatures! <br />I am glad I am only a bird!' <br />Then he flew up over the meadow, <br />And that was all I heard.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/robin-s-mistake/
