Lost, Strayed, or Stolen.
Reading edition
Oh! what has become of the mugwump bird
In this weather of wind and snow?
And does he roost as high as we heard
He roosted a year ago?
A year ago, and his plumes were red
As the deepest of cardinal hues;
But in the year they’ve changed, ’tis said,
To the bluest of bilious blues!
A year ago, and this beautiful thing
Warbled in careless glee;
But now the tune he is forced to sing,
Is pitched in a minor key.
It’s oh, we sigh, for the times gone by,
When the mugwump lived to laugh—
When, coy and shy, he roosted high,
And couldn’t be caught with chaff.
And it’s oh, we say, for the good old day
Which never again may come—
When the mugwump threaded his devious way,
And whistled his lumpty-tum!
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