The Rooks

The rooks are building on the trees;

They build there every spring:

"Caw, caw," is all they say,

For none of them can sing.

They're up before the break of day,

And up till late at night;

For they must labour busily

As long as it is light.

And many a crooked stick they bring,

And many a slender twig,

And many a tuft of moss, until

Their nests are round and big.

"Caw, caw." Oh, what a noise

They make in rainy weather!

Good children always speak by turns,

But rooks all talk together.