It’s known as the blue-throated widgit?
A shy bird that can’t help but fidget.
It’s always in motion and so restless
That come season’s end it is nestless.
It’s a singular bird, is the widgit,
You can count it just with a digit.
It pauses to lay all its eggs
Which run off as if they had legs.
They follow the widgit around and around
Until they discover a hole in the ground
And stay there until the day that they hatch
Then off they will go to find a new patch.
So this is the tale of the widgit,
A bird that’s a bit of a midget
As it rarely stops for a feeding
And hardly finds time for breeding.