[Altair333]

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that ofttimes hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Keats, "Ode to a Nightengale"

[lafroste]

Eeeewww, loving little sparrow,
Will no one write your eulogy?
I will, said the Dutch,
4 million dominoes mean nothing to me,
I've gone off the deep end of reason, you see...

apologies to Simon & Garfinkel