A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage.
The trees are Indian Princes, But soon they'll turn to Ghosts; The scanty pears and apples Hang russet on the bough; Its Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, 'Twill soon be Winter now. Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And what will this poor Robin do? For pinching days are near.
If a robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage, How feels heaven when Dies the billionth battery hen?
I saw a robin redbreast in Central Park today, but it turned out to be a sparrow with an exit wound.
A dog starved at his master's gate Predicts the ruin of the state.
The fairy tale is in a perpetual state of becoming and alteration. To keep to one version or one translation alone is to put robin redbreast in a cage.
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