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