There are fifteen birds in five fir trees
Their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze
But funny little birds they have no wings
O what shall we do with these funny little things
Roast 'em alive, stew them in a pot
Fry them, boil them, eat 'em hot
Roast 'em alive, or stew them in a pot
Fry them, boil them, eat 'em hot
Burn, burn tree and fern
Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch
To light the night for our delight
Ya hey! Ya hey!
Bake and toast 'em
Fry and roast 'em
Till the beards blaze
And the eyes glaze
Till the hair smells
And the skins crack
And the fat melts
And the bones black
Burn, burn, burn!
Burn, burn, burn!
Burn, burn, burn!