Down Wess** way, when spring's a-shine,   The blackbird's "pret-ty de-urr!" In Wess** accents marked as mine   Is heard afar and near. He flutes it strong, as if in song   No R's of feebler tone Than his appear in "pretty dear,"   Have blackbirds ever known. Yet they pipe "prattie deerh!" I glean,   Beneath a Scottish sky, And "pehty de-aw!" amid the treen   Of Middles** or nigh. While some folk say—perhaps in play -   Who know the Irish isle, 'Tis "purrity dare!" in treeland there   When songsters would beguile. Well: I'll say what the listening birds   Say, hearing "pret-ty de-urr!" - However strangers sound such words,   That's how we sound them here. Yes, in this clime at pairing time,   As soon as eyes can see her At dawn of day, the proper way   To call is "pret-ty de-urr!"