Arriving at the hunter's home I was put under a bucket that I might not escape, while my captor prepared my prison for me.

It was an almost needless precaution for I had been so cramped between his fingers that I feared I could never again use my legs or wings.

Just before putting me in my rude prison house he brought a pair of shears and bade Betty clip my wings.
"Oh, I'm afraid it will hurt it!" she exclaimed, pushing away the extended scissors.
"Nonsense, you ninny! What if it does hurt it ?" and he roughly knocked my bill with his hand.
"Now that's real mean, Joe.

You're a scaring it to pieces.

Here, Dickey Downy, I'm going to give you a pretty name if you belong to me; let me hold you.