Ten lovely birds,

Sitting on a wire,

Swinging back and forth,

Never getting tired.

Clouds were rolling north,

Winds started to blow,

One bird now flew off,

The storm started to grow.

Nine birds were now left,

Sitting on a wire,

Chirping back and forth,

Singing like a choir.

Thunder cracked

And lightning struck,

One bird left

In quite a huff.

Eight birds were now left,

Sitting in the rain,

Leaving one by one

Until two remain.

These two, I'm afraid,

Won't soon fly away,

Because they placed their bets,

On who'll be last to stay.