"My mother killed her little son;
My father grieved when I was gone;
My sister loved me best of all;
She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper tree.
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
The shoemaker heard him, and he jumped up and ran out in his shirt-sleeves, and stood looking up at the bird on the roof with his hand over his eyes to keep himself from being blinded by the sun.
"Bird," he said, "how beautifully you sing!" Then he called through the door to his wife; "Wife, come out; here is a bird, come and look at it and hear how beautifully it sings." Then he called his daughter and the children, and then the apprentices, girls and boys, and they all ran up the street to look at the bird, and saw how splendid it was with its red and green feathers, and its neck like burnished gold, and eyes like two bright stars in its head.
"Bird," said the shoemaker, "sing me that song again."
"Nay," answered the bird, "I do not sing twice for nothing; you must give me something."
"Wife," said the man, "go into the garret, on the upper shelf you will see a pair of red shoes; bring them to me." The wife went in and fetched the shoes.
"There, bird," said the shoemaker, "now sing me that song again."
The bird flew down and took the red shoes in his left claw, and then he went back to the roof and sang—
"My mother killed her little son;
My father grieved when I was gone;
