Small red cardinals flying through the air;
The pigs wait snorting in their forts.
Some pilfered golden eggs are in their lair,
But buried deep beneath their helmets and snorts.
The cardinals call for help from fellow birds,
From yellow, fast canaries plowing through
Light wood, and stone, and ice, destroying herds
Of green-tinged swine that maddened birds flew to.
Black bombers soar and cause the pigs to pop;
Small bluebirds split to triple their attack,
While chickens glide and eggs explode when dropped.
The pigs’ smug snort may cease but will come back,
Because the pigs will surely remain hungry
And so the birds will always remain angry.