In the motley feather'd race

In the motley feather'd race
Mankind you may distinctly trace,
Evermore on pleasure's wing
Idly roving,
Fighting, loving,
They chatter, croak, and hoot, and sing.
Nor is my simile unfair,
Among the people of the air
Are birds of night and birds of day,
Birds that on each other prey,
Birds that whistle, birds that croak,
Birds that are a standing joke,
Birds that decoy, and mock, and call,
So like to birds are mortals all,
That in the motley feather'd race
Mankind you may distinctly trace,
Evermore on pleasure's wing,
Idly roving,
Fighting, loving,
They chatter, croak, and hoot, and sing.

Thou hast seen upon the prowl,
Grave as any judge, an owl,
On birds and mice at random seize,
For wren, or linnet,
Watch the minute,
And make a snatch, by way of fees:
Lawyers, who deal in froth and words,
What are they all but humming-birds?
Geese are those who go to law,
A hoarding miser's a jackdaw,
Fond doves, like lovers, kiss and toy,
A bulfinch is an Irish joy,
Neglected worth's the humble wren,
While corm'rants are all aldermen!
Thus in the motley feather'd race, &c.

Vain peacocks thou hast seen, who hide
Their ugly feet, though puff'd with pride;
Thus, while they bask in sunshine's hour,
Specious wonders
Hide the blunders
Of gaudy peacocks, plum'd with power.
Fools so love knaves one can't descry
The dove-house from the rookery;
The meerest dolt can tell you who
Are like the wagtail and cuckoo:
And all know those who swear and lie
Are like the noisy chatt'ring pie:
A hen's a flirt, with frizzl'd top,
And what's the duck-tail'd jay?—a crop!
Thus in the motley feather'd race, &c.