Blackbirds

Four and twenty blackbirds perched o'er the milhaus floor Four and twenty blackbirds perched o'er the milhaus floor Watching a pair of blackbirds, a pair of blackbirds more Four and twenty blackbirds perched o'er the milhaus floor One blackbird to the other "You must be my queen," Said one blackbird to the other, "say, say, say you must be my queen" Well, the other replied in turn, "well, Sure enough, you're my king" Four and twenty blackbirds and two began to sing The queen, she sang of milhaus Rising to the sky The king, he sang of riches Baked in a honey pie Stick your finger in, and taste it on the sly Sing a song of sixpence and a pocketful of rye But now the queen she asked that question "What makes the milhaus rare?" The king replied in turn, "well, Tonight it's you so fair" Four and twenty blackbirds are too baked themselves to care Fly away you dainty dish, two blackbirds flew upstairs When that sun had risen The rhyming it was through When that sun had risen, yeah, yeah, the rhyming it was through Four and twenty blackbirds had rhymed that whole night through Fly away two blackbirds with nothing left to prove Now you count that blackbird lucky Who first to fly away Bitter that taste left behind The lonesome heart astray Pity not that blackbird The blackbird who must stay For having tasted blackbird pie Baked and on display Four and twenty blackbirds Four and twenty blackbirds perched o'er the milhaus floor Watching a pair, watching a pair of blackbirds Watching a pair of blackbirds A pair of blackbirds more