A little birdie told me you were scared of growing old,
Well, I think you should be scared of growing young,
And very shortly there will be a day, I have been told
When I’ll stop drinking coffee and begin to suck my thumb.

A little birdie told me you were frightened of your closet,
When in truth you should be frightened by your bed,
Why would something dangerous hide among your clothes,
When you’d be an easy target if he hid under you, instead?

A little birdie told me you were terrified by night,
When really you should be terrified by day,
Why would something that would kill you with tooth or gun or knife,
Waste its precious sleeping time to stalk his prey?

A little birdie told me you are scared to die alone,
I have to confess that truly scares me too,
And another little birdie told me, as she looked into my soul,
That everybody dies alone, including me and you.

A little birdie told me you were unsettled by this poem,
In truth I found it left me quite perturbed.
But I will tell you that for the bird you should give thanks,
You don’t want to hear rabbit’s thoughts, he’s even more disturbed.