Noise, by Pooh

by A. A. Milne

Oh, the butterflies are flying,

Now the winter days are dying.

And the primroses are trying

To be seen.

And the turtle-doves are cooing,

And the woods are up and doing,

For the violets are blue-ing

In the green.

Oh, the honey-bees are gumming

On their little wings, and humming

That the summer, which is coming

Will be fun.

And the cows are almost cooing,

And the turtle doves are mooing,

Which is why a Pooh is poohing

In the sun.

For the spring is really springing;

You can see a skylark singing,

And the blue-bells, which are ringing,

Can be heard.

And the cuckoo isn’t cooing,

But he’s cucking and he’s ooing,

And a Pooh is simply poohing

Like a bird.