Why do they always blame me?
Do they think it my fault that I was born
With silken ebony feathers
And an iron-blue beak?

Why do they always blame me?
Do they not believe it coincidence
That as my slender shadow passes over
The flowers wilt in the field below?

How typical of their race to say
That it shall be an awful day
When my wing passes o’er their way.

And is it my fault that their mothers drop dead
As I perch upon the sill?

Why do they not pity one
Who runs from family,
Has no friends,
As all their aquaintences come to their end?