Thomas Hardy — The Spring Call

Down Wessex way, when spring's a-shine,        &nbsp The blackbird's "pret-ty de-urr!" In Wessex accents marked as mine        &nbsp Is heard afar and near. He flutes it strong, as if in song        &nbsp No R's of feebler tone Than his appear in "pretty dear,"        &nbsp Have blackbirds ever known. Yet they pipe "prattie deerh!" I glean,        &nbsp Beneath a Scottish sky, And "pehty de-aw!" amid the treen        &nbsp Of Middlesex or nigh. While some folk say—perhaps in play -        &nbsp Who know the Irish isle, 'Tis "purrity dare!" in treeland there        &nbsp When songsters would beguile. Well: I'll say what the listening birds        &nbsp Say, hearing "pret-ty de-urr!" - However strangers sound such words,        &nbsp That's how we sound them here. Yes, in this clime at pairing time,        &nbsp As soon as eyes can see her At dawn of day, the proper way        &nbsp To call is "pret-ty de-urr!"