Classic Poem

Oh, what has become of the Mugwumpbird
In this weather of wind and snow,
And does he roost as high as we heard
He roosted a year ago?

A year ago and his plumes were red
As the deepest of cardinal hues,
But in the year they 've changed, 't is said,
To the bluest of bilious blues!

A year ago and this beautiful thing
Warbled in careless glee;
But now the tune he is forced to sing
Is pitched in a minor key.

It 's oh, we sigh, for the times gone by
When the Mugwump lived to laugh—
When, coy and shy, he roosted high,
And could n't be caught with chaff.

And it's oh, we say, for the good old day
Which never again may come—
When the Mugwump threaded his devious way
And whistled his lumpty-tum!