Betty the Beauteous Budgerigar
knew that she was meant to go far.

She preened her feathers from dusk ‘til dawn –
the brightest yellow a bird’s ever worn.
From dawn ’til dusk, she’d dance and sing,
and try hard to be interesting.

At last, just when her luck seemed out,
she was spotted by a talent scout.

“Mon dieu, Madame Perry!” cried he,
(for that was the name of la mère de budgie)
“Your budgerigar is most unique.
Dis-moi, can it also speak?”

“Betty,” squawked Betty, pleased as can be.
(She’d been taught her name by Madame Perry.)

“Sacre bleu!” said the Man of Talent,
and appeared to depart with every intent
of making chère Betty a star on TV. 
But alas! Poor Betty, ‘twas not to be.

For the talent show was a mean old scam – 
in fact, the scout was a common conman –
and had taken the cash meant for Betty’s début
to spend on drugs. How terribly rude!