"Who killed Cock Robin?" "I," said the Sparrow,
"With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin."
"Who saw him die?" "I," said the Fly,
"With my little eye, I saw him die."
"Who caught his blood?" "I," said the Fish,
"With my little dish, I caught his blood."
"Who'll make the shroud?" "I," said the Beetle,
"With my thread and needle, I'll make the shroud."
"Who'll dig his grave?" "I," said the Owl,
"With my pick and shovel, I'll dig his grave."
"Who'll be the parson?" "I," said the Rook,
"With my little book, I'll be the parson."
"Who'll be the clerk?" "I," said the Lark,
"If it's not in the dark, I'll be the clerk."
"Who'll carry the link?" "I," said the Linnet,
"I'll fetch it in a minute, I'll carry the link."
"Who'll be chief mourner?" "I," said the Dove,
"I mourn for my love, I'll be chief mourner."
"Who'll carry the coffin?" "I," said the Kite,
"If it's not through the night, I'll carry the coffin."
"Who'll bear the pall? "We," said the Wren,
"Both the cock and the hen, we'll bear the pall."
"Who'll sing a psalm?" "I," said the Thrush,
"As she sat on a bush, I'll sing a psalm."
"Who'll toll the bell?" "I," said the bull,
"Because I can pull, I'll toll the bell."
All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,
When they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin.
This poor little bird was dropped outside the bedroom door at about 11.45 last night by Tiger. We had heard her scurrying around like she was playing, and had been about to get up and investigate when she appeared. I think the bird was dead when she got it, probably killed by Lily. Poor little bird. Cats can't help it I suppose but I wish they would stick to their toys. I don't tell them off though as they think they are being good. I don't know what kind of bird it is-it looks very young and has really lovely markings. Quite beautiful, so I took pictures. I remember the Cock Robin poem from when I was little and we had a beautifully illustrated copy of it. It gives me a strange feeling which I can't put into words. I like the way all the animals help to mourn Cock Robin and the feeling of sadness of all the birds 'a-sighing and a-sobbing'. This bird is in an eggbox awaiting burial which I will do tomorrow as I didn't find time today. I'll bear the eggbox, and I will dig the hole.