Wait a minute longer, I’ll be a simple songbird, I’ll sing a song of sixpence, you can bake me in your pie.

Wait a minute not too long, I’ll still be singing my sweet song when you peek inside the oven and I’ve yet to die.

Wait a minute longer, my song is growing stronger, you know the oven’s taken me and you just want your pie.

How’s that songbird singing with a voice made of pie filling? How’s that little bird gonna crow, gonna crow?

My body is a dead bird but my song will never die.