The brown owl sits in the ivy bush,
And she looketh wondrous wise,
With a horny beak beneath her cowl,
And a pair of large round eyes.
She sat all day on the selfsame spray,
From sunrise till sunset;
And the dim, grey light it was all too bright
For the owl to see in yet.
‘Jenny Owlet, Jenny Owlet,’ said a merry little bird,
‘They say you’re wondrous wise;
But I don’t think you see, though you’re looking at me
With your lare, round, shining eyes.’
But night came soon, and the pale white moon
Rolled high up in the skies;
And the great brown owl flew away in her cowl,
With her large, round, shining eyes.