I don't like those damned blackbirds anyway.
I remember one time I was just minding my own business, taking shots from the bottle of rye in my pocket, singing a little tune of sixpence under my breath, when some idiot served up a pie and a bunch of those stinkin' blackbirds flew out. There must have been at least four and twenty of them. Next thing you know, one of them pecked off the nose of this pretty little maid I'd been hittin'. Ever seen a pie crust filled with blackbird droppings? Nothing dainty about it. No sir.
I remember one time I was just minding my own business, taking shots from the bottle of rye in my pocket, singing a little tune of sixpence under my breath, when some idiot served up a pie and a bunch of those stinkin' blackbirds flew out. There must have been at least four and twenty of them. Next thing you know, one of them pecked off the nose of this pretty little maid I'd been hittin'. Ever seen a pie crust filled with blackbird droppings? Nothing dainty about it. No sir.
