Fifteen crows sitting on the wires;
One drops a nut,
Sitting expires.
Then they fly down–
One gets there first—
Then fly back up
Like a dance rehearsed.

Fifteen crows sitting on the wires,
They all fly off
When a car back-fires.
Fifteen crows fly every-which-way;
If one gets “where” first,
Who can say?

Fifteen crows—that is my song;
Not too sweet,
And not too long.