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Near the village of Abernathy Cove
There lived a man of great distinction.
It is to him that I dedicate this ode
As an explanation of his extinction.

For it is of one Miller McVie
That I now offer up these words.
It’s my hope that you’ll be able to see
Why his life was given up for the birds.

For as a boy young Miller it seems
Could not pronounce the letter “R.”
And the other kids taunts and screams,
Left poor Miller with a scar.

So from the town he would keep away,
And do his best to hide.
But in the woods he would play,
With the birds whom he’d chosen to reside.

Sometimes if the traffic was light,
Miller would sneak into town.
He’s go to visit the pet store at night,
To see what new birds they’d found.

One night the pet store caught on fire,
And it was burning out of control.
The situation grew much more dire,
Since he couldn’t yell fire to save his soul.

“Fi, Fi,” he called out
But no one paid heed to his call.
He knew to act without a doubt,
As he ran through the fiery wall.

Some say he died that night,
Trying to save the birds that he loved.
Yet others tell of a wondrous sight,
As the birds flew with him high up above.

So shed a tear if you feel you must,
Though I think you’ll find that it’s uncouth.
When I tell you now that Miller’s not dust
And I know for a fact that’s the tooth.

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