Jay bird, jay bird, sittin’ on a limb,
He winked at me and I winked at him.
I picked up a rock and I hit his shin,
Sez he: “You’d better not do that agin.” (Ira Ford)
Daddy went a-huntin;, Daddy shot a bear;
Shot him in the ass, and he never touched a hair. (Bayard)
Jaybird, Jaybird, sitting in the grass,
Jaybird, Jaybird, sitting in the grass,
Jaybird, Jaybird, sitting in the grass,
Wiggle-wiggle went his tail, poop went his ass.
And the song continues throughout the hours,
Reminding me of fowl and feathers’ power,
You depart, remnants of your ruckus remain.
I spy the trees through the fallin’ rain.
Come back, little bird, and sing again.
I’ll throw another rock at your shin.
I’ll be nice and you’ll just sass,
I’ll toss my bleeding heart at your ass.
