Pericos, The

I

In his small wooden box
     That hangs on the wall
Sits a queer-looking bird
     That in words sounds his call.
From daybreak to twilight
     His cry he repeats,
Resting only whenever
     He drinks or he eats.
He never grows weary,--
     Hear! There he goes now!
          "Comusta pari? 
          Pericos tao."

II

And all the day long
     You can hear this strange cry:
"How are you, father?
     A parrot-man I."
He sits on his perch,
     In his little white cap,
And pecks at your hand
     If the cage door you tap.
Now give him some seeds,
     Hear him say with a bow,
          "Comusta pari? 
          Pericos tao."

III

Poor little birdie!
     How hard it must be
To sit there in prison
     And never be free!
I'll give you a mango,
     And teach you to say
"Thank you," and "Yes, sir,"
     And also "Good day."
You'll find English as easy
     As what you say now,           
          "Comusta pari? 
          Pericos tao."

IV

I'll teach you "Good morning"
     And "How do you do?"
Or "I am well, thank you,"
     And "How are you too?"
"Polly is hungry" or
     "It's a fine day."
These and much more
     I am sure you could say.
But now I must go,
     So say with your bow, 
          "Comusta pari? 
          Pericos tao."