The hiya’s a bird who’s particularly pleasant,
His standards just couldn’t be higher.
On the moors he follows the mores of the pheasant,
Welcome to the world of the hiya.
He treads very gently over heather and heath,
Minding his step as he zigs and he zags,
Giving mind to whatever is above or beneath
Until he steps up to the towering crags.
And then he announces in a bellowing cry,
“Hiya, Hiya, Hiya, Hi!
I’m the best-mannered bird that ever did fly.
Now would you mind if I took to the sky?”