The bird turned its head slightly. “That’s odd. From where I sit, you don’t seem very huge at all. In fact, you could be considered small,” the crow said, seeming to forget its mention of a poem.
“Well I didn’t mean to speak of my actual size. I was talking about the size of my love for poetry. It’s a play-on word. Or was it word-on play? I can’t remember.”
“Well, when I say huge, I mean huge,” the bird said.
Ignoring the bird’s comment, Alice decided to change the subject to the previous idea of a poem. “Mr. Crow, I do think that you mentioned a poem that you were going to recite for me, and I would love to hear it so-“
“You don’t need the ‘do’,” the bird interrupted.
“I beg your pardon?” Alice asked.
The bird sighed, “If it’s the poem you wish to hear, then it’s the poem I shall make you hear. Now listen carefully, I’m only going to say this once.”