“Disgusting!” the parrot replied, but he lied. He’d helped brew the stew of the others who’d died. The little bird looked at his trembly wee feet And went , Tweeeeeeeeeeeeeet….” “Alas, ‘tis sad,” the parrot sighed, “Come sit on the branch here, by my side.” And the parrot preened, stretching his wings out wide. “You have big wings, I could curl up and hide…” The wee birdy twittered. The parrot obliged. That was the last that was heard of wee bird. So listen little birdies and don't make a to-do, Birds of a feather should NOT stick together When you find yourselves on the menu!

Text by J.R.Poulter, illustration by Mattias Adolfsson

“Soup”, said the little bird up in the tree, “It’s SOUP they want to make of me!”