The magpie and the cockatoo. A fable

A magpie o’er a marrow bone
Was playing well his part:
He peep’d, and talk’d in merry tone,
And pick’d – with all his heart.

A cockatoo above him sat
Within a splendid cage,
And listen’d to the magpie’s chat,
With air demure and sage.

At length he rais’d his golden crest,
And bridling in his head,
The busy magpie he addrest,
And “Cockatoo!” he said.

The magpie heeded not the while,
But pick’d with might and main,
And chatter’d in right flippant style,
And peep’d, and pick’d again.

Again his crest the stranger rear’d
And saw’d from side to side;
Then at the magpie down he peer’d,
And “Cockatoo!” he cried.

But here the magpie, at the call,
A moment check’d his way:
Look’d up, with “Bless us! is that all
“Your worship has to say?

“Do drop that dull unvaried strain;
“Change it, – I prythee do:”
His crest the stranger rais’d again,
And utter’d “Cockatoo!”

- And thus, thought I, as on we go,
Mankind still meet our view:
Some prate with ever-changeful flow,
And some say “Cockatoo!”

The ‘squire on sporting dwells;
Lawyers to cases fly;
The soldier rears his crest, and swells,
- ‘Tis “Cockatoo!” they cry.

The politician prosing dreams
O’er mails arrived or due;
The merchant o’er commercial themes;
- ‘Tis only “Cockatoo!”

But some one, light of heart, may say,
“Good friend, one word to you:
“Morality usurps your lay,
“And that’s all “Cockatoo!”