And now it has flown to new scenes of delight, Where Venus's pigeons long cooing have sat, While Lesbia's famed sparrow with envy moults white And the Muses all chrip to the Avadavat.

'Sir, you have to get back,' said a uniformed voice, an ambulance officer this time. 'We're asking everybody to stay back.' 'I live here,' he said. 'With my wife and my boy. Have you seen them?'

It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.

Coordinate term: blackfolk