Oh how I love my little dead bird
Who sits so still for me
You may think that it’s a tad bit absurd
But she sings the most faint melody
A whisper, a wheeze, dust on the breeze
That haunts like All Hallows’ Eve
Oh how I love my little dead bird
My dead little bird Louise

Oh how I love my little dead bird
Who stares so vacantly
Two eyes long gone but still has a third
Which she uses to watch over me
She looks and she sees whatever she please
And guides me along with ease
Oh how I love my little dead bird
My dead little bird Louise