He is nothing but a blue-tit,
Just a bright and fluffy blue-tit,
And he comes to peck my suet half a hundred times a day.
If he makes me mope or grumble
'Tis because he will not tumble
In my pinafore, and stop with me to whistle or to play.

He is hanging noddle downward,
With his velvet noddle downward,
And is staring at a sparrow that has found a crumb of bread.
I can guess what he is jotting
In the tiny brain that's plotting
How to drive away the sparrow and to eat the crumb instead!

As I watch him in the ivy,
Soft as leaf upon the ivy,
I am sorry that his mother cannot give him sweets and toys.
If he wore a little pocket
I suppose he wouldn't stock it
Full of sugar-plums and lollipops, like happy girls and boys.

He is nothing but a blue-tit,
Just a shy and silky blue-tit,
And I love to watch his antics half a hundred times a day.
If he makes me sigh or grumble
'Tis because he will not tumble
In my pinafore, and stop with me to whistle or to play!