The Whiff of Freedom
If I were a bird of short life span,
Gliding through the morning air,
Flapping wings of bright white tan,
Rising high for bodily care.
Were I the pride of all my fan’s,
Trotting around in majestic wear,
Stretching my neck for out to scan ,
The cabbage leaves and a lovely pear.
Were I so scared of that evil man,
To fly into his cruel snare;
I would flutter around and wildly plan,
To free his hand from my sweet mane.
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