evilpika: Fifteen birds, in five fir trees
Their feathers were fanned, in a fiery breeze
What funny little birds, they had no wings
Oh what shall we do with the funny little things?
Oh what shall we do with the funny little things?
Roast 'em alive or stew 'em in a pot
Fry them, boil them, eat them hot
Bake and toast 'em, fry and roast 'em til beards blaze and eyes glaze
Til hair swells and skins crack, fats melts and bones black and cinders lie beneath the sky.
Four?!
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Their feathers were fanned, in a fiery breeze
What funny little birds, they had no wings
Oh what shall we do with the funny little things?
Oh what shall we do with the funny little things?
Roast 'em alive or stew 'em in a pot
Fry them, boil them, eat them hot
Bake and toast 'em, fry and roast 'em til beards blaze and eyes glaze
Til hair swells and skins crack, fats melts and bones black and cinders lie beneath the sky.
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