John Clare, 1793-1864
Little trotty wagtail he went in the rain
And tittering, tottering sideways he neer got straight again
He stooped to get a worm, and looked up to get a fly
And then he flew away ere his feathers they were dry
Little trotty wagtail, he waddled in the mud
And left his little footmarks, trample where he would
He waddled in the water-pudge, and waggle went his tail
And chirrupt up his wings to dry upon the garden rail
Little trotty wagtail, you nimble all about
And in the dimpling water-pudge you waddle in and out
Your home is nigh at hand, and in the warm pig-stye
So, little Master Wagtail, I’ll bid you a good-bye.